


What Once Was Lost

by SoulStealer1987



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Brigitte is a fangirl, F/F, F/M, Lena is the gayest person in the world, M/M, The world could always use more Anahardt, everyone's pretty much accepted that at this point, just you wait and see, ohhh but it's gonna be a lot more than just Anahardt, this is what happens when I can't find enough fanfic for my OTP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-12-15 22:19:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11815335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulStealer1987/pseuds/SoulStealer1987
Summary: The world needs heroes.Reinhardt Wilhelm is very much aware of that fact. He can't exactly do a ton on his own (and he's very much aware of that, too), but with his friend and traveling companion Brigitte by his side, he most certainly intends to try.Halfway across the world, a bounty hunter who now answers only to Shrike has realized it, too. She and her partner, an old friend from younger days, do what they can to sabotage evil here and there, but it isn't enough. It's never enough.Both have realized that in order to beat back the evil that's begun to ensnare the world, they're going to need a lot more help. Fortunately, they're not the only ones who are still willing to fight.~Alternate description: the author couldn't find enough Anahardt content online, and... well. She figured that if she'd wanted an Anahardt-centric fanfic, she'd have to write it herself. So this happened.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fear not, fellow Anahardt trash! This is gonna be GREAT! I can't promise any sort of update schedule, chapters will come out as I write them, and most of them will probably be written on my phone.
> 
> As for the readers who came for a different ship, or just got interested by the desc: WELCOME ABOARD! Every ship tagged will at some point have its time to shine, although the majority of the spotlight will be reserved for Anahardt (and some R76 here and there, because that too is a good ship).
> 
> There will definitely be a lot of plot, too. I can promise that. It'll definitely have a lot to do with the recall, and everything going south afterwards. I can promise that too. Anything else...? Who can say at this point? I obviously know how I'm starting, and I know how I want to end, and some significant events in the middle. Other than that? I'll be pretty much making things up as I go. So if you have any suggestions, let me know! :)

"Hey, Reinhardt?" Brigitte asked suddenly, tearing the old knight from his thoughts. "What was she like?" That was... odd. What - well, who - was she talking about? Well, no. Reinhardt had a pretty good idea who she was talking about, but he couldn't be sure. He also couldn't recall ever bringing _her_ up, which was worrisome. How did Brigitte know? Was... it just that obvious? Or was it... no. He was _not_ going to think about that. Not today. Not unless he had no other choice.

"Who?" Reinhardt said finally, turning to face Brigitte. As usual, he was painfully aware of the fact that he was no longer as young as she was now, as young as he once had been, and never would be again. Well... _she'd_ made him feel young. Then that day had come, _the_ day, and he'd seemed to age all at once.

Common sense insisted that he hadn't actually aged all at once, that he had aged gradually, and only become aware of it after... that day. His common sense - well, what little he had to begin with - had begun to sound a little too much like _her_ lately. Reinhardt couldn't recall when it had become that way, but he did listen more often... at least a little bit more often, anyway. It was one of the only ways he could still honor her memory. After all...

They'd never found her body. Some had been hopeful, for a time. But they did find her rifle - shattered - and _so much blood_... too much for anyone to lose and live. Not without immediate medical attention. They'd searched the area, the hospitals, everywhere. _Nothing_. In the end, they decided that Talon must have taken her body, as a final insult, and that was what hurt the most. They (Talon) probably knew it, too.

She'd always known she would die someday. They all did, deep down. But Reinhardt knew she hadn't been expecting to go first. He hadn't been expecting that, either. If he'd known... he wouldn't have waited so long. He wouldn't have waited too long. And he would regret saying nothing to the end of his days, and perhaps longer.

"You know exactly who I mean, Reinhardt!" Brigitte insisted, crossing her arms. _Shit_. Then, quieter, she asked, "Ana Amari. What was she like?"

Reinhardt hadn't allowed himself to so much as think her name since the funeral. _Her_ funeral. It had been small, a private service. Just close friends and family. He'd stayed near Fareeha for most of it, he recalled. Jesse had been there, too. Torbjörn had been off on his own. Jack and Gabriel had been standing next to each other, but the tension between them had filled the cramped room they'd held it in.

She would have hated it. She would have wanted it outside, but it was far too dangerous. She would have wanted it in Egypt, but they couldn't get there. She would have told Jack and Gabriel off for not clearing up their issues before coming, and gotten mad at them for disrespecting the dead. She would have been there for Fareeha if she needed a hug, or even just some comforting words. She would have given Jesse a smile, and told him something to get him smiling again, too. She'd practically adopted the kid, after all. And... well...

It was almost funny, in a twisted sort of way, how Reinhardt knew with a certainty he didn't have on many things anymore what she would have done or said to everyone else, anyone else, anyone but him. He didn't know... and he never would. She was gone, gone forever, and she wasn't coming back. The dead didn't return from the grave.

"She was a little bit like you," Reinhardt said finally, getting a confused look from Brigitte. He could see why. "In some ways. Not others. She kept me in line, kept me from charging into situations I couldn't get out of." He smiled sadly, remembering the good times, before. "I would give anything to see her again, to talk to her, one last time."

Brigitte said nothing for a time, then, quietly, solemnly, "Did you love her?" Before, Reinhardt would have dodged the question. Now... he knew better.

"Yes," he said in the smallest voice he'd ever heard come out of his own mouth. "I did... and I never told her."

~

Halfway across the world, a bounty hunter known as the Shrike to all but two peered through her scope from afar.

"Looks clear from where I am," she reported. "I don't have visual on the side you're on, though. Be careful." Her partner (in vigilantism, not crime, there was a difference) let out a low chuckle.

"I'm always careful, whatever would make you say that?" Soldier: 76 joked. (She supposed it was a good thing that he was making jokes again, even if it was only to her.) Beneath her mask, she managed a wry smile. "Wouldn't mind having you watching my back, though. I'll wait." Huh. _Him? Waiting?_ That was a first, although she didn't mind at all. She still couldn't help but wonder why he couldn't have been more patient _before_ they both died.

"Thanks," the Shrike said gratefully, leaping down from her perch and finding a new one, a better one, one where she could see him and he could see her... if he looked in the right spot. "I'm good over here, and ready whenever you are." He saluted in the general direction he assumed she was in (actually, he was way off, but he didn't need to know that) and sprinted into a hiding spot behind some sort of conveniently-placed crate. There were quite a lot around the area, which made sense, considering the location.

It wasn't a moment too soon, either, as the garage door the pair had been watching opened just then, and a squad of Talon troops slipped out, escorting some sort of payload. This was going to be too easy-

And she jinxed it. She didn't have to look at the soldier to know he'd frozen, same as her, when _he_ stepped out. Reyes. _Gabriel_ Reyes. It was hard enough for the Shrike to watch what he'd become, and although they'd been close - the entire original team was - he and Jack had been far closer.

Now? Now, despite her best efforts, she suspected Jack would never trust anyone like that again. She was an exception, she supposed, but there was a reason for that exception. A good reason, even if she didn't get his reasoning. And she fully intended to do everything she could to keep Gabriel from hurting him even more.

"Of course he's here," the soldier muttered darkly. "Of course. We never get a break, do we?" The Shrike frowned. Her mask helpfully informed her that her heart rate was slightly elevated, as if she didn't already know that. Oh well. She wasn't sure why she had it monitoring her vitals... probably because she kept forgetting to disable that function.  She could deal with that later, if she didn't forget again, which was entirely possible.

"Of course not," she replied cautiously, forming a plan in her head... but she'd need him to do something she didn't want him to do. "Jack. Can you distract him? Draw him out? I can handle the other troops, check out what that's supposed to be, then group up with you?" Silence on his end for a bit, and for one, terrifying moment, she thought she'd lost him. But... he hadn't moved from his position. Thinking, then. Alright. She could wait. A sniper _did_ have to be patient, after all.

"Understood," Jack said finally. Creeping around the crates, he did a remarkably good job of sneaking around... oh, that was what he was doing. Not what she would have done, but it did the job.

The Shrike kept her eye on her scope as he jumped one of the troops from behind, knocking him out at the very least, and attracting _his_ attention. Jack looked at Gabriel. Gabriel looked at Jack. For a split second, they just stood there... and then Jack turned and ran. Stupid of him, but surprisingly, Gabriel took the bait.

She supposed it wasn't what she would have done, but it worked. Well enough, anyway. As she lined up the first of her shots, her thoughts wandered to another member of the original strike team, one in particular. She wondered how he was doing. She hoped he was staying out of trouble.

~

"Trouble is my middle name!" Reinhardt proclaimed loudly, perhaps a little too loudly... ha, who was he kidding? These ruffians wouldn't stand a chance. Behind him, he could hear Brigitte swear in Gaelic, and for a second, he wondered... would _she_ approve? The answer came to him almost immediately: probably not, but she'd like this a lot better than what he'd been doing before he ran into Brigitte. So yes, he would most certainly keep doing this. As long as he needed to. Well, no, he'd always need to. _So as long as he could._

"Reinhardt, no," she muttered crossly. "As much as I agree with you that these guys need a butt-kicking, I really don't think your armor can handle-"

"Armor? I don't even need my armor for this!"

He didn't have to look at her to tell she was scowling. Probably _she_ would have been, too. But that didn't matter. If he didn't fight for those who couldn't, those less fortunate, then who would? _No one._

So Reinhardt would keep fighting, until his last breath. Then... then, he'd finally join her, and he'd finally be able to tell her what he foolishly never had, out of fear. Fear that she wouldn't feel the same way, and falsely believing she'd be around forever, when, in fact, she wasn't.

"Reinhardt, I _really_ don't think-"

He charged.

~

The Shrike slipped down from her perch easily, and crept quickly over to the payload. It had to be something important, that was for certain. She supposed she could have just stuck a grenade in there, and she likely still would, but she'd be a fool not to check what was inside first.

She lifted the tarp covering it - brand new, although someone had smeared it with dirt to make it appear older (nice try) - and nearly dropped it when she saw what was inside. A bomb. _A bomb._ As if outright tearing people's lives apart wasn't enough. Rage began to boil up within her, but she forced it back down. She knew better than to let it take over. The last time she'd done that, she'd lost her eye. She supposed that was why she hadn't looked into getting it fixed more: it served as a useful reminder, a reminder of what would happen if she acted on impulse.

 _Anyway_. An EMP would have done the job nicely, but she didn't have one of those on-hand, unfortunately. She didn't know how powerful the bomb was, or - oh god - if it could be set off remotely. She thought for a moment, taking a careful step back, and in doing so, something off to the right caught her eye.

There was a sharp drop-off, almost 200 feet, and straight into the ocean. If the bomb went off there, it wouldn't do much damage, and that was assuming it even could go off in water. They'd be hard-pressed to find it again, and even if they did, chances were it would be severely damaged by either the fall or the seawater.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to do, and began pushing. It would have gone a lot faster if _he_ was here, that was for sure. But if he knew, that would only put him in more danger. Telling Fareeha alone - and staying in contact with her - was risky enough. Too risky.

Exposing herself - even only to her daughter - was something she could do. Fareeha could handle it, and even if she couldn't... she didn't know about Jack. Telling  _him_ would expose them both, and she couldn't do that. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

~

At some point during the battle, the enemies - thieving, pillaging scum that only did good when it suited them - had managed to block themselves into an inner room, in a feeble attempt to regroup. Even Brigitte was (somewhat) optimistic about this now, and she literally _never_ was. That, he supposed, was the difference between her and... Ana. Both had kept him in check, kept him from being too reckless, from endangering others. However, Ana... there had been no one like her before her, and there would never be anyone like her again. Brigitte was a little like her, yes, but... she wasn't her. Brigitte had a much shorter temper, for instance, and much less patience with his shenanigans.

Where he and Ana would have laughed things off, Brigitte would be complaining for hours and hours about everything that went even a little bit wrong. Brigitte knew what she was doing, sure. But she wasn't Ana.

"Ready if you are, big guy," Brigitte said finally, passing her pistol from hand to hand. "I've got your back." Indeed she did. And she always made sure he knew it. So, after a bit, Reinhardt nodded. They had wasted enough time already, and it was time to finish this. Once and for all. He hefted his hammer, braced himself, and charged for the barricade.

It was a pretty pitiful barricade, he had to admit, because he broke through without even trying. In fact, he wasn't even sure if it qualified as a legitimate barricade.

~

She watched the payload - the _bomb_ \- fall. It hit the cliff side about halfway down, broke clean in two, and sank quickly.

Satisfied, she turned to rejoin Jack, but it was only then that she saw what was going on.

Gabriel had a shotgun to Jack's head, and - this was what _really_ scared her - he wasn't even trying to fight back. Gabriel was yelling something, but they were too far away to hear clearly... wait. She should have been able to hear Jack, at least-

He'd turned off his comm. That had to be it. _Idiot_. She dashed back, hid behind a crate, and, after a moment's hesitation, she pulled out her sleep dart gun. After everything _he'd_ done, she would have much preferred to just kill him and be done with it, but she knew from experience just how hard he was to kill.

"Gabe, please," she heard Jack plead. "Don't do this." She peered over the crate, and aimed.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't," Gabriel demanded. Nothing from Jack. "Exact-" She'd shot, and the monster Gabriel had become collapsed.

She leapt over the crate with an agility she was honestly surprised she still had, and made her way over to Jack. "We need to get out of here. Fast." Jack slowly nodded, and let her help him up. He didn't look back.

~

"That was _glorious_!" Reinhardt proclaimed loudly. Brigitte did not look impressed. That was no surprise. "I can't believe you thought we couldn't do that!"

"I can't believe we both survived that," Brigitte said dryly, and took a swig of her beer. Slightly hypocritical of her, but that didn't bother Reinhardt. Not too much, anyway. "Where to now, Don Quixote?" Reinhardt shrugged. He honestly didn't know. He also honestly didn't know if her calling him that was a compliment, an insult, or something in between, but he was going to take it as a compliment.

"Wherever needs us!" He said finally. Brigitte rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Surprisingly.

"Yeah, sure. There," she said.

~

"He didn't kill me, Ana," Jack insisted. She glanced up, surprised he was still talking about it. "He could have. And he didn't." The Shrike - fine, _Ana_ \- frowned.

"That was because I stopped him," she replied cautiously. "The Gabriel we knew wouldn't have done that." The real question, though, was if they knew him at all. Ana was beginning to doubt if either of them had. And _what happened to him?_ His face... well, it was nightmare material. That was the only way she could describe it anywhere close to accurately without wanting to throw up.

"...do you think he's still in there?"

Ah, the million-dollar question. Truthfully, she didn't think so, but just outright saying that wouldn't help anyone. And, she supposed, there could be something redeeming in the fact that he hadn't killed her, either, when he'd had the chance. But... what happened? And _where_ did it all go wrong?

"I don't know, Jack," she said quietly. "I really don't know." And unless things changed drastically in the near future, she doubted either of them ever would. "What do you think?"

Jack's gaze hardened as he reached for his mask. "He's... he's become a monster."

~

"Hey, what's that?" Brigitte asked suddenly, pausing their show. Reinhardt literally had no idea what she meant, and it must have shown. "That... beeping noise. Can't be from the TV, 'cause I just paused it... you can hear it too, right? Please tell me I'm not crazy." Reinhardt listened carefully, and sure enough, he could hear a faint beeping coming from somewhere in the back of the van. He couldn't _begin_ to imagine what it could be.

It took a while to find the offending item, because neither Brigitte or Reinhardt were particularly neat, so stuff they didn't use on a regular basis usually just got thrown into a pile in the back. It was Brigitte who found it, actually, and as she passed it to Reinhardt, he couldn't believe his ears.

"This is it!" Brigitte said triumphantly, grabbed a nearby towel, and wiped away her sweat. Then she noticed Reinhardt's reaction. "Umm... big guy? What's- wait. Is that what I think it is?" It was. It most certainly was. The show was soon forgotten, in favor of a message from Winston, of all people... uh. Never mind.

"Are you with me?" Winston asked, taking off his glasses and staring directly into the camera, almost like it wasn't a pre-recorded message. He looked determined, and it took Reinhardt all of five seconds to make his decision. He glanced over at Brigitte, who was grinning like an idiot. _Twice in a day?_ That was a first.

"Well, big guy, whaddya say?" She asked, already knowing full well what his answer was. She didn't even wait for him to say it, and pressed the button to accept. "By the way... that is the same gorilla that screwed over Doomfist, right? He seems a lot... calmer than on TV."

Reinhardt only nodded, and the two waited in almost complete silence for the call to connect.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So people start arriving at the Watchpoint, but not too many people have actually got there before something goes horribly wrong, and from the looks of things, Helix can't handle it. Also Reinhardt charges into like fifty walls. (As someone who plays Reinhardt quite frequently in comp, I can confirm that this happens a lot, especially if you're trying -not- to charge into any walls.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, uh... this has already gotten more popular than any of my other works on here, so that's a good sign I guess? I mean, I was prepared to be the only one reading this, but I'm not??? So that's good???
> 
> Actually, one of my favorite authors on here gave me kudos already, somehow - if you haven't read Overwatch Emergency Communication Channel (I Swear, It's Emergency Only) then you're missing out, but make sure you start reading at a decent time so you don't stay up until 4 AM like me - so I'm just fangirling like crazy over here, don't mind me! 
> 
> Uh. Just ignore that entire last paragraph please it's embarrassing-
> 
> Also. I am legit struggling to choose between Pharmercy and Gency because I ship both. Maybe I'll have Gency be a thing before Overwatch blew up or something? And then Pharmercy in the present? Or I mean I could make Pharmergency be a thing (is that the ship name? I have no idea) but... yeah, nevermind. It's Pharmercy or Gency. I'm leaning towards having both, but at different times...? Maybe.
> 
> I feel like I probably have to say something about the Mercy changes here, as a Mercy main, so, uh... at first I was freaking out, mainly because my brain decided to ignore everything except the fact that they replaced her group rez. (Goodbye, sweet POTGs! You will be missed!) But the changes honestly look pretty cool now, unfortunately can't play until Wednesday, which is why I got all my summer games skins already... but anyway. Uh. Yeah...
> 
> ANYWAY, that's probably enough rambling from yours truly (if anyone actually read all that-), time to get to what you're probably all here for: the actual chapter. Fun stuff! Also wow I'm royally screwing things up for my favorite character already, that's no surprise. These guys would hate me if they knew I was behind all the stuff they have to go through...

A recall of Overwatch was the last thing anyone had been expecting, and that included Reinhardt. He'd watched as the various news outlets tore what little was left after the explosion apart... and although he knew he should have been there, should have been with them... at first, he couldn't find it in himself to care. Things had become complicated after... Ana's death. _Too complicated._

But things had begun to change after he'd been on his own for a while. After he'd found Brigitte... or, rather, after _she'd_ found _him_. He could faintly recall that she was a huge fangirl of the original Overwatch - that was how their paths had crossed in the first place - but she had become distinctly unimpressed with how the real Reinhardt Wilhelm was pretty quickly, so he'd almost forgotten.  _Almost._

Watching her now, he couldn't believe he'd forgotten that side of her... although he supposed she'd stop being so excited once she got to know everyone that was returning... and actually, he could hardly believe anyone was returning. (Aside from him, of course.) Torbjörn... well, that wasn't a surprise, actually, considering how stubborn he was. The two of them were all that were left of the founding members of Overwatch, unless Liao was still around. (If they were, Winston hadn't been able to reach them, and nobody had heard from them in years, so...) He'd had his doubts about Angela, but she'd responded positively. So had Lena, which _really_ wasn't a surprise.

Winston had even managed to get a message through the old Blackwatch communication lines, and successfully contacted two agents. Jesse McCree would be stowing away on a plane across the Atlantic sometime in the near future, while Genji Shimada hadn't given specifics, but said he'd be at the Watchpoint soon, possibly with someone else. (Reinhardt supposed there had to be a reason that it was the two Blackwatch agents he actually  _knew_ \- or knew  _of_ , anyway - that were returning, but he couldn't think of it off the top of his head.) Winston hadn't gotten through to anyone else.

That made eight or nine members of... of Overwatch. Most hadn't responded, hadn't kept their communicators - or just ignored them - and there were some who did respond only to outright refuse. None threatened to reveal the existence of the recall, at least... which was a lucky break on their part.

"I still can't believe that... that people came," Winston admitted, pushing his glasses up on his nose with an uneasy grin. "Well, people that weren't Lena. You should have heard her."

Speaking of Lena, she and Brigitte were discussing something nearby, although not near enough for Reinhardt to hear. Brigitte was still grinning like an idiot, matching Lena's usual smile, and Lena looked like if she got any happier, she'd start bouncing off the walls. Reinhardt did want to be happy. But... somehow, he couldn't. And he didn't quite know why. (Or maybe he did, and just didn't want to think about...  _her._ )

"Indeed... but what next?" Reinhardt asked finally, getting a confused look from Winston. "The world needs us now - you said that yourself - so we need to do something." Winston looked like he got it now, but he still took a moment to think.

"I don't know yet," the gorilla admitted rather sheepishly. "The recall was something of an impulse decision, and I- well. I'll figure it out... no, we'll figure it out. I suppose... I suppose the endgame here would be to get the Petras Act repealed. And Overwatch back in action." Winston frowned. "Doubtless there are many who would not want to see us return."

Reinhardt nodded. "That is for certain." Talon was the most obvious threat, yes, but definitely not the only one. Helix wouldn't want competition, despite the fact that they were rather incompetent. (At least, Fareeha had told him that the last time they'd talked, and that hadn't been _too_ long ago.) And Reinhardt didn't know enough about any others to guess at their approaches.

"This is kind of changing the subject, but I'm guessing you saw the news about Lena and I," Winston said after a long, slightly-awkward silence. "We were... rather hard to miss." That was the understatement of a lifetime. Most of the mainstream media had chosen not to report on what had happened with the museum with the exception of Atlas News, and even Atlas was cautious. However, what had happened was kind of common knowledge by now, although most of the world didn't know the details.

Lena had responded and arrived first, within a day, before anyone else was even close. Naturally, it was when it was only the two of them that, as Brigitte often said, 'shit hit the fan'... and the result was kind of hard to ignore.

Not long after that episode was when Reinhardt and Brigitte made it in. How they'd avoided notice by any locals, Reinhardt didn't know, but, somehow, they had. (Driving the old van in at night probably helped.) And here they were. Angela and Jesse would both be arriving tomorrow, and Torbjörn the day after that... that was, of course, assuming that nothing went wrong. Winston didn't know about Genji, not for sure. So... for the moment, Overwatch was made up of eight or nine people (depending on if anyone else was bringing friends with them, like Reinhardt had).

Reinhardt might not have been a tactical genius - actually, that was everyone _but_ him - but he wasn't exactly liking these odds. Less than ten people against everything that had brought Overwatch down in the first place, and everything else that had cropped up once it was gone. Most would give up without starting, and Reinhardt suspected that was the primary reason for refusal to return. He couldn't really blame them. (Well, actually, he could. _Cowards_.)

However, Reinhardt could recall another time when the odds had been immensely against them: the Crisis itself. Six people - alright, six _badasses_ , as Ana would have said with a smirk - had managed to do what billions couldn't. And if they'd done it at any other time, they would have failed. Truthfully, there were many, many factors involved: timing, skill, teamwork, _luck_... People didn't know how close they had come to failing, or just how hard it had been. If they had, then maybe they wouldn't have-

Well, no. After... after Ana's death, it was only a matter of time until everything fell apart. She'd been the glue that kept everyone together, and without her... the bad guys had already won. Reinhardt couldn't help but wonder if they could even get off the ground again, without her...

 _Well_. He was already here, to honor her memory if nothing else, and even if this was doomed to fail... Reinhardt knew this was what she would have wanted him to do. It was what she would have done. So he would keep fighting. For her, if nothing else. For what they could have been, if he hadn't been such a _coward_.

~

Across the Mediterranean Sea and then some, the woman once known as Ana Amari crept toward her own memorial. Slightly morbid, but she'd stopped caring about that long ago. She much preferred this one to her (obviously empty) grave in Geneva for quite a few reasons. This one was inscribed in Arabic. The other was in English. This one was more simple, and yet so much more sincere.

The one in Geneva was all wrong.

She supposed things must really have gotten dicey near the end, for a crowd-funded memorial here to be more meaningful than the official thing. Actually, strike that, she _knew_ that things had gotten dicey near the end. She'd been suspicious even before she'd ran into Jack, and he'd only confirmed her suspicions.

Gabriel had gone off the deep end even before everything went to shit.

When she saw someone walk up to the memorial, slowly, quietly, carefully, someone she could recognize even at a distance as Fareeha, she forced her thoughts to the back of her mind for now, then slowly, carefully, slipped off her mask.

She watched as Fareeha looked in the usual spot, and found nothing.

 _Your communicator went off_ , her hastily penned note had read. _I listened to the message, but didn't respond. They're bringing back Overwatch. And I think I'm going to join them._

As usual, she hadn't signed it. Neither had Ana, not after the first one. Just to be safe. And for a moment, she simply watched, and wondered if maybe this was a bad idea. This most certainly wasn't safe. In fact, it was probably one of the riskier things she'd done recently...

 _Too late now_ , Rein's voice echoed in her head. She'd heard him say that oh so many times... so many that she'd begun to get annoyed by it, before everything changed forever. Truthfully? She'd give almost anything to see him again, to hear him say that, or anything, really. For a moment, she wondered if maybe she  _could_ find him, wherever he was, probably with this new Overwatch, wherever  _that_ was.

However... even if she was ready to return - which she wasn't, not quite - Jack was a million times worse, less trusting. (She couldn't really blame him, after... _that._ ) And if she wasn't there for him, no one would be. So she doubted she'd be returning to Overwatch - and everyone else she'd known and loved - anytime soon.

However... that didn't mean she couldn't help from afar. Through Fareeha, if nothing else. So... she dropped down from her ledge silently - okay, maybe not-so-silently, because Fareeha heard her. Ana wasn't sure whether to be proud of her daughter or annoyed that she hadn't been quiet enough- yeah, she was going with proud. No point in getting pessimistic already.

"...Mom?" Fareeha asked, slowly, quietly, carefully. Ana knew she wouldn't be asking if she wasn't already certain of the answer... but she nodded anyway. Slowly. Quietly. Carefully.

Fareeha said nothing for a time. Neither did Ana. She just couldn't think of anything that could justify what she'd done. It had been so much easier through letters, and not having to see Fareeha's face. But... well. If she was going to do this, then Ana truly had no choice but to talk in person.

"What happened?" Fareeha demanded, then brought a hand up to her face and wiped her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was softer. "And... why...?" _Couldn't you come back sooner,_ Ana continued silently, knowing full well what her daughter was thinking. She could feel herself beginning to cry as well... no surprise there. She would have been worried if she wasn't.

"I hesitated," Ana said simply. Her hand went to her eyepatch. If Fareeha's sympathetic expression was any indication, she had a pretty good idea of what she meant, even if she'd never experienced it firsthand. Ana hoped she never would, but then again, she'd also hoped she wouldn't want to follow in her mother's footsteps, and they both knew how well that had gone.

"And... I'm sorry," Ana continued, slightly unnecessarily. Fareeha nodded, and the two once again lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

"I'm going," Fareeha said suddenly, uncomfortably. It took a second for Ana to realize what she was talking about. "I have to. The world needs heroes, and Helix... Helix isn't doing enough."

Ana realized with a start that Fareeha's expression, less than a minute before, when she'd mentioned hesitating... _it hadn't been sympathy._  Ana knew what that looked like - she'd seen far too much, and the majority of it was misplaced - and that _wasn't it_. It was empathy. Which meant... Fareeha _did_ know what it was like to hesitate, to make the wrong decision.

Well, at least whatever that wrong decision was hadn't changed her entire life the way Ana's had. Everyone she'd ever cared about didn't believe she was long dead and buried. So Fareeha was lucky, in a way. And although Ana couldn't go... Fareeha could. And if Fareeha was determined to do this... then the least Ana could do was make sure she succeeded.

"I'll be watching your back out there," Ana said hesitantly. Fareeha's face lit up, and she knew she'd said the right thing. For once.

"Then I have nothing to worry about," she said with a smile. That smile faded all too quickly, however. "You could... come with me?" Though it broke her heart, Ana shook her head.

"I couldn't." Well, technically her thoughts were more along the lines of _I shouldn't_ , and for a moment, Ana let herself wonder what would happen if she did. Everyone would be glad to see her, and Rein... she so badly wanted to at least see him again. Even from afar. Maybe she _could_ manage that, at least.

But... if she went with Fareeha, she would essentially be abandoning Jack to die, and she _couldn't_ do that. He'd been through enough already. The last thing he needed was for the one person he still would trust with his life to leave him behind.

So... she couldn't return. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

"But please, Fareeha, please take care of them," Ana continued, and managed a small smile. "Especially Rein. He'll be there even if no one else is." Fareeha nodded quickly, then realized something. Ana almost laughed at the expression on her daughter's face. In another time and place, she might have called it priceless.

"Wait, Rein!?" Fareeha's eyes widened. "You had a thing for the guy whose poster I still have on my wall?" Ana's smile grew slightly. Just slightly.

"I wouldn't call it that. We were close, yes, but just friends. Although... perhaps there could have been something more there. Perhaps." Ana took a deep breath. There was still something here that both of them needed to clear up, and Ana knew she'd regret not bringing it up if she didn't. "Fareeha. You know why I didn't wish this life upon you." Fareeha nodded once.

"I do," she said solemnly. "But if I'd known, before, I would have made the same decision."

Ana smiled, satisfied. "Well, it is your decision, so I will support it." Suddenly, she thought of something. "Wait. You still have the poster?"

"How could I _not_?"

True that. "...any chance I could have that? Seeing as you'll be with him soon enough?"

Fareeha smiled back. "Yeah, no prob. But I'll be wanting it back once you do join up."

Well, it seemed like Ana had taught her daughter well... maybe a little too well. She knew perfectly well that Ana would be joining up. Eventually. When the time came. Even if she didn't know why she couldn't come now.

"That, I can agree to."

~

True to her word, Angela showed up bright and early the next morning. It was maybe five minutes before everyone who had gotten there so far was hugging each other and crying, Reinhardt included. He supposed part of it was because the last time most everyone had seen each other was at a funeral, or just after one. In his case, it was... _hers_.

"It's been too long," she said while working on Reinhardt's chart, not too long later. (Winston had been all too happy to let her handle the medical side of things, and she'd been all too happy to take charge.) "Really. I'm surprised nobody even tried to get together after... well. You know."

Truthfully, Reinhardt wouldn't have known if anyone _had_ tried to get together. He'd managed to handle things at least somewhat between her death and the explosion, but the explosion had been the straw that broke the camel's back. He'd been in a bad place for a long time after that. He didn't doubt he'd be there still if things hadn't changed quite dramatically between then and now.

"Um, yes," Reinhardt agreed after he realized she was waiting for an answer. "I guess... maybe some of us couldn't get together." _Or didn't want to,_ he silently added. She didn't seem to get the message.

"Of course we could! But... well. I'm just happy to be able to make a difference again." Reinhardt suspected that was everyone's reasoning, actually. "I suppose I'll be patching you all up," she continued, "as usual." She wasn't wrong.

Reinhardt managed a half-hearted laugh. "Certainly."

"Well, I suppose I _am_ glad to be back," he heard Angela say later, while he was looking for Brigitte. "But I do hope you intend to make more out of this than what you have been so far." He heard Winston laugh nervously. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

"Uh, that's the idea! Haha..." Reinhardt could practically hear the anxiety in his words. "Erm... Doctor. Do you think... it was the right decision?"

Reinhardt thought that perhaps, he _shouldn't_ have been listening to this conversation. He took a small, hopefully-quiet step back, then another. But he couldn't help but hear what Angela said next before he was completely out of earshot. "Would I be here if it wasn't?"

Jesse McCree arrived the same day the doctor did, albeit in the afternoon, and wearing what Brigitte described to Reinhardt as "the most ridiculous get up I've seen in years, and I deal with _you_." She didn't hesitate to repeat it to the guy's face, either. He just laughed.

"An' a good afternoon ta you too," Jesse said cheerfully, tipping his hat to her. She raised an eyebrow. "Now... who're ya s'posed to be? I recognize ev'ryone here 'cept you."

"Uh... Brigitte. Um... I'm a... mechanic. Been dealing with this idiot over here for a while." Reinhardt didn't have to look to know she was pointing in his direction, although he did happen to be looking. "Figured Overwatch could probably use all the help it could get... not that you guys need it."

Jesse cracked an easy grin. "Of course not."

~

When Fareeha Amari got back to her apartment late that night, the poster was already gone. She supposed she _really_ shouldn't have been surprised. Her mom still had some tricks up her sleeve, after all. She always had, and probably always would.

She practically collapsed onto her bed, and began thinking on how exactly she was gonna pull this off. This was _not_ gonna be easy, that was for sure. And if she did this, she'd be leaving behind everything she'd known for, well, everything she'd dreamed of. It wasn't really much of a choice in that respect.

She picked up her mom's old communicator from where it had been lying nearby, and listened to the message once again. She had no idea how to respond, actually... maybe she should have asked about that. _Damn_. Winston probably could have helped her figure out how to get her suit out and everything.

As it was, she knew all too well that trying to sneak it out would be suicide, even if she managed to get in it before being discovered, and especially so if she got caught without it. So... she'd have to wait for-

Her Helix-issued comm went off.

-a good opportunity. _Speak of the devil._ Hopefully whatever this was would stay a good opportunity. From the looks of things, Talon was involved, so that was _great_.

Fareeha yawned, started making some coffee while she got dressed for duty, then grabbed the cup - and both comms - on her way out the door. She had work to do.

~

Winston managed to get the old training simulators working sometime in the night, and after Angela practically ordered him to get some sleep ("and stop eating so much peanut butter while you're at it!"), everyone else got started. Brigitte was the only person who hadn't used these before, so Angela took a moment to explain the rules while the first group (Reinhardt, Tracer, and McCree) got started. She figured they wouldn't last long (not without a healer, anyway), so she probably had time to explain things to the new girl. Maybe. _Hopefully_.

"So, what's goin' on here, exactly?" The new girl - Brigitte, Angela needed to remember that - asked, looking slightly confused, but considerably less confused than some Angela had seen. "I mean, I figure it's a training sim, Reinhardt wouldn't shut up about it when he heard it was working, but... how does it work?"

Angela managed a small smile. "You'd be better off asking Torbjörn that, when he gets here." _If he gets there_ , the depressing side of her corrected. As usual, she ignored that pleasant thought. "But I suppose I can help you with the basics." The two watched, Angela more amused, Brigitte more worried, as Lena blinked into a wall. Angela would have been worried if Lena hadn't recalled right after... and then blinked right back into the same wall. Ouch. _These guys have_ not _gotten any less reckless since I last saw them_ , Angela thought, cringing. Of course only the most reckless people came back. _Of course they did_.

"The training bots don't actually do that much damage," Angela continued reluctantly, "although they hurt like the real thing. And obviously doing things like that-" (she indicated Lena, who was currently staggering around like a chicken with its head cut off) "-will still hurt quite a lot." Angela probably would have been a lot more sympathetic if this exact same thing hadn't happened to Lena before, multiple times. Similar circumstances, too. Would these idiots never learn? (Probably not, if the fact that they hadn't already was any indication.)

"So don't run into any walls. Alrighty, sounds good to me," Brigitte mused aloud, then met the doctor's gaze with her own determined one. "So, uh... is it just me, or is everyone that came back really dumb when it comes to not getting hurt?" They both cringed when Reinhardt charged into a wall. _Wall wins every time_ , Angela thought, half amused, half annoyed.

"No, that is _not_ just you," Angela replied carefully. The two watched as McCree, the only one still standing, managed to off six at once (Angela had never figured out how he could do that) and then promptly rolled out of the way of an attack and into, you guessed it, a _wall_. "A less offensive term would be 'reckless', but yes. You are quite right on that." Brigitte snickered as the three limped out.

"Wall: 1, Overwatch: 0!" She called a little too loudly. "Better hope the bad guys don't start recruiting walls to join them, or you'll be toast!"  
Lena blinked over with a smirk. "I'd like to see ya do better!" Brigitte smirked back.

"Oh, it's _on_ ," she said, and glanced meaningfully in Angela's direction. Pretty soon, the two of them - plus Reinhardt - were doing surprisingly well. Even if Reinhardt kept charging out of position and into walls. _How was he still doing that?_

Everything changed when Winston rushed in, somehow looking even more tired than before, and yelling something along the lines of "Talon attack in Egypt!"

The team for that mission was gone in the next few minutes.

~

When Fareeha Amari had been wanting a good opportunity, this _really_ wasn't what she had in mind. Being back at the Temple of Anubis wasn't exactly pleasant, especially since someone high up had the _brilliant_ idea to _not_ upgrade the firewalls after what happened last time. _Seriously?_  It was almost like they were asking for trouble. It just didn't make sense, and only added to her suspicion that Helix had no idea what they were doing, either. _Idiots_.

Regardless, she did her best to keep her flight path unpredictable enough that the sniper couldn't land a hit. That was no easy feat, and it was even harder when you were also trying to stop the advance of the ground troops. It would have been easy without that damned sniper, but whoever they were, they knew what they were doing. Fareeha hated to admit it, but they were good. Maybe even as good as her mother... nah, who was she kidding, nobody was as good as-

A sickening crack, instant, excruciating pain in her side, and a slightly-delayed warning on her helmet's inner display tore her from her thoughts, quite literally. The display helpfully informed her that the bullet had gone through one of her thrusters and lodged somewhere in her lower body. (Not that she couldn't guess at all that already, because it _hurt like hell_ , and she was honestly surprised she was still rational at this point.) Then she began to fall, and her vision began to fade. Some sick, twisted part of her wondered what would kill her first, but the rest quickly determined that she still had a job to do, and she was damn well going to try and do it.

"I'm hit," she managed, breathing heavily, trying (and failing) to keep her fall controlled. "Attempting an emergency landing south of the Temple. Disabling my comm for now, Saleh's in charge until then."

For a brief, terrifying second, there was only static, and in that second Fareeha tried to angle her fall so she'd land on a cloth canopy. That'd hurt _less_ , at least... "-Captain Amari, I copy. Dealing with the sniper now. We'll come grab you after we're done here."

Fareeha switched off her comm moments before she ripped through the canopy, and landed hard. _Too hard_. Instant pain (well, _more_ pain) and everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon decides to do... something with the Temple of Anubis. Helix is disturbingly incompetent, but Overwatch gets there pretty quickly, so they're fine. Kinda. Although Helix may or may not have some explaining to do, because you don't. Just. Leave someone behind. Also, Soldier is more paranoid than me after watching let's plays of horror games, and that's saying something.

_Well, shit_ was the first and only thing running through Jesse McCree's head when he caught a first glimpse of the battle on the way in... if you could even call it that. From what little he saw, it was so one-sided that he was beginning to wonder how the losing side had even lasted this long. Was Helix really this incompetent? Or was Talon just that good?  
Well... if Talon was still using the Blackwatch playbook - which he would never not be pissed about, by the way - then chances were it was the second option, and that made this that much harder. He hadn't forgotten what happened on that train, or that they'd recognized him. He hadn't had the heart to check and see who it was, but... well. It explained why Winston had only been able to find him and the ninja.

The sole good thing about this was that he knew what they'd be doing, as long as they stuck to the playbook that never would be theirs. And while the fucking insane amount of ground troops didn't seem to be enough following it, the sniper (and he couldn't believe that it was just one sniper, because this one was comparable to the best one he'd known) certainly was.

"Oi! Cowboy!" The British girl - Lena Oxton, he remembered - said a little too loudly, waving at him enthusiastically. McCree stared back, not remotely impressed. "I got an idea!"

 _Oh great,_ McCree thought, internally cringing. _How the_ fuck _had she handled Null Sector?_

 _...right. She had help._ But he figured it couldn't hurt to at least listen to her idea. Whatever it was, it couldn't possibly work any worse than taking potshots from behind the big guy's shield - _Reinhardt's_ shield, Ana would want him to remember that.

"I'm listenin', darlin'." McCree said lazily, peering out from behind Reinhardt's shield and lining up a shot. He fired, and one of the more important-looking ground troops fell. _Headshot_.

"I'm gay," she said bluntly. McCree nearly missed his next shot, only because he was cracking up. " _Oi_! Whatcha laughing at?"

McCree didn't need to look at her to know she was pissed. _Her loss_. "You're not the first girl who's told me that, and I charm 'em all in the end." Well... minus that Mexican chick in that bar around Christmas. And a whole lotta others, but the Mexican chick was the first one who came to mind, mainly because she'd kicked his ass in a drinking contest. Thinking back, he suspected she hadn't even been trying.

"Really? Doubt ya get a lotta girls, with that getup!"

Okay, now _that_ was just insulting.

"And you do?"

McCree thought he'd gotten her with that. He thought wrong. "I'll have you know that I've got a girlfriend!"

He actually missed his next shot, much to his annoyance. When he glanced back at Oxton, she was smirking. _Bitch_.

"Really, now? What's she like?" McCree kept looking for just long enough to see her smirk become a genuine smile, then he returned his attention to the fray... right, they all were in the middle of something here. "Actually, wait. Didn't you say ya had an idea?" Oxton practically froze.

"Bloody hell- yeah, got me thinking about Emily. What was... _right_! So I've fought that sniper before... long story that I'm not sharing, so don't ask, and anyway, she's really bloody good. So if we want to win this..."

McCree groaned aloud. "Ya want me to distract her, don'tcha."

"Actually I could do it by myself-"

"Oh no you are _not_ ," Dr. Ziegler said firmly, and trained her healing beam on McCree. (He grunted a thanks.) "This is the sniper that, and I am quoting you directly here, 'kicked your bloody arse.' I agree that we need a diversion, but the two of you are going together or not at all."

For once, McCree didn't feel like arguing with the doc. Even if he had to go with Overwatch's golden girl. _Could be worse._

"So next time the shield goes down," the doctor continued, "you two need to flank that sniper. Verstanden?"

He really hated it when people took ideas that weren't theirs and acted like they were theirs, but it wasn't his idea, so he didn't really give two shits. He nodded slowly. Oxton simply saluted, apparently not bothered. _Strange_.

"Barrier's giving out," the old man - Reinhardt - warned. Pretty much everyone scattered before the shield broke. Dr. Ziegler switched her beam to Reinhardt as he charged to cover, and gave McCree a look that could only mean one thing: _go_.

Much to his annoyance, Oxton was already gone, and by the time he caught up, he was all out of breath. As McCree crept up the alleyway behind the Brit (who was doing a pretty shitty job of staying quiet, by the way), he happened to glance upwards. He supposed it was a good thing that he did when he did, 'cause he would've missed it otherwise.

"Weren't there six of 'em earlier?" McCree asked quietly. Oxton blinked back, and he pointed at the squad from Helix flying away probably as fast as their suits could carry them. Cowards. He also would have sworn that there were six, not five, but he hadn't seen any fall... then again, he hadn't really been looking.

"Yeah... where's the blue one?" Oxton asked, looking genuinely confused, and McCree realized she was right. There _had_ been someone in a blue suit. He remembered seeing them, mainly because the others were all in various shades of brown, and because the blue one actually seemed to know what they were doing. He'd only caught a glimpse, and the next time he looked, the blue suit was gone, and Helix was having about as much of an effect as they would have with BB guns.

"They'd leave behind one of their own?!" McCree asked incredulously. Disgust and disbelief leaked into his voice. Normally, he was pretty good at hiding his emotions, but this went against everything he stood for, so he didn't really give two shits at this point. You didn't leave your people behind. You just didn't. "Damn. That's... I can't even..."

Oxton looked just as shocked as he was, maybe even more. "That's horrible!" Yeah, he had to agree with her on that. This _was_ horrible.

_Funny how everyone condemned Blackwatch, considerin' that even we wouldn't do that. An' then the UN's bastards will. The hell is this world coming to?_

He found himself remembering a certain mission, gone horribly wrong. He could've died, probably should've died. But they... Reyes... got him out more or less alive. And he survived, which was more than some people could say. Even if he lost his arm in the process. He really owed that guy, big-time. But Reyes had never wanted to be paid back. Every time he tried, he'd just laugh and refuse. And... god _damn_ , he wished he could have done more. For a moment, he wondered what Reyes would do, if he was here. _Probably woulda come up with some genius plan that tied everythin' up nicely, as usual._ Damn, he missed the guy.

"While I agree with you both, we can worry about that once we've actually got the situation under control," Dr. Z said through comms. He'd half-forgotten about those existed. Then again, spending a lot of time on your own and on the run tended to make you forget a lot, and he'd been on his own for _years_ , so... "You two need to get moving."

McCree could have sworn he saw Oxton roll her eyes before she blinked ahead, and his opinion of her improved dramatically with that realization. He followed her, albeit much slower, and probably with a lot more mental swearing. _Why was she so damn fast?_

~

They left her behind.

 _They left her behind_.

Ana Amari's opinion of Helix hadn't been all that high to begin with, but it just dropped further than she ever would have thought it even could, and that was saying something. They'd _literally left Fareeha behind_. They hadn't even _tried_ to figure out where she'd crashed. They hadn't even checked to see if she was alive. (Much to Ana's relief, she was, but she couldn't pretend there hadn't been a chance that she wasn't.)

Overwatch never would have... _wait_. Never mind. Overwatch _did_ leave her behind. _Jack_ left her behind. But there was a halfway decent reason for that: she'd been too reckless, too overconfident... and then when she actually could have still gotten out more or less unscathed, she hesitated. She hesitated when it counted the most, and she'd very nearly paid the ultimate price for it.

In that case, getting left behind was practically inevitable. She could accept that. In Fareeha's, it shouldn't have ever happened. But... it had, unfortunately, and now Ana had to figure out _what the hell to do_. She'd been crouched next to Fareeha - completely still, unconscious, but _alive_ \- for the better part of an hour now. She'd mostly just been sticking around to ensure that no lost Talon troops got any ideas while the rest of the squad from Helix fought, but then everything changed. Helix _left_. _Without Fareeha_. So her initial plan, to make sure Fareeha didn't die before Helix got to her, was _definitely_ out of the question.

Somewhere in there, the recalled Overwatch had shown up. Fareeha had wanted to join them anyway - Ana had to wonder why she hadn't already - so this would work out pretty well... assuming she could actually get someone's attention without them figuring out who she was or shooting her. That would be difficult... but not impossible. She took a deep breath, then leaned down until her mask touched her daughter's helmet. She could hear Fareeha's (thankfully steady) breathing from there. In and out. In and out.

"I'll be back. Soon," she said softly, unnecessarily, then stood and crept back toward the battle.

Who could she get the attention of that would be perceptive enough to realize she was just trying to get their attention...? Hmm... this would not be easy, but it would be even harder if they realized who she was, so she'd have to be careful. _Very_ careful. And it would be uncomfortable enough _without_ them figuring anything out. Rein was out of the question, if he was here. Anyone else... _maybe_. Yeah, this was _not_ going to be easy.

Well... the alternative wasn't an option she was willing to take, so she had to figure something out.

Hopefully Jack wouldn't do anything _too_ dumb while she was busy.

~

"Heh, you look like you've seen a ghost," Gabe - no, _Reaper_ , or whatever he'd become - remarked dryly. Of course, he'd lost all his morals and kept the snark. Of  _course._ "Oh, wait. We're all ghosts here." For once, the soldier didn't hesitate. He fired, not that it did anything. The reaper simply laughed as he returned to his regular form.

"Nice try, Boy Scout," he said, and the soldier could hear the smirk in his voice. He could see him smirking in his mind's eye, too, except that the smirk was one of a friend, a lover, not an enemy. It hurt _so damn much_. "Maybe if you keep trying, you'll kill me again. Wouldn't that be nice?"

The soldier tried not to show it, but he was affected, and they both knew he was. _Damn it_. He eyed the reaper cautiously, and when he unsurprisingly pulled his shotguns out, he fired, but this time with something different.

The helix rockets exploded between them, sending both the soldier and the reaper flying. The reaper landed on his feet, a fairly good distance away, but nothing he couldn't cover quickly. At least he'd dropped his shotguns. The soldier didn't, instead slamming into a stack of very inconvenient crates - of _course_ they were metal,  _everything_ was metal these days, why  _wouldn't_ they be metal - and while every one of his instincts screamed at him to stop fighting, he knew he could handle far more. The first thing he did - even before getting up - was to pop a biotic field, because _damn it_ his back felt like it was on fire, and it couldn't possibly just be from slamming into the metal fucking crates the wrong way. The reaper chuckled.

"Well, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, _right Jack?_ Doesn't seem like you got any stronger since last time. Probably 'cause Ana saved your ass, as usual."

Under his visor, the soldier scowled. He was right, but did he really have to put it that way? Wait. Of course he did. He knew what could break him, and unlike the soldier, he was willing to use everything he had against him. Words, shotguns, memories. Everything.

"Anyway, that's enough small talk," he muttered darkly, pulling out another pair of shotguns from under his cloak. (That would have surprised anyone but the soldier, because he'd had that replicator even before... this.) "Don't think I'd forget about you, what you've done. _Everything_ you've done."

He fired one shotgun, then another, and the soldier couldn't dodge them both. Pain blossomed in his shoulder, but he ignored it, and opened fire himself.

"Finally fighting back? Huh. _Took you long enough._ " For the first time, the soldier thought he heard a hint of Gabe in there... and that just made his heart break even more. "Had no problem with it when you _fucking killed me-_ "

"Shut up!" The soldier spat. Surprisingly, his opponent did so. That was a first. Not that he really cared about that. Not anymore. "We both know I didn't mean for any of that to happen!" As he spoke, he vaulted over another crate and hit the ground a little harder than he'd meant to. _Shit_. His rifle clattered to the ground, landing a few feet too far for him to grab easily.

"Really? Could've fooled me." The reaper could have reached him easily - they both knew that - but he instead chose to go around. As he walked like he had all the time in the world, footsteps heavy, the soldier crawled forward, and barely reached his rifle before he felt a boot plant itself firmly in the small of his back. _Fuck_. "And if that wasn't what you meant to happen, then what was?"

The soldier didn't answer, at least not verbally. Instead, he twisted around and smacked the butt on the rifle into where the reaper's dick would be, if he even still had one. (If his reaction was any indication, he did, because the soldier had more than enough time to get to his feet and a safe - well, saf _er_ \- distance away.)

The reaper threw away his guns, further and harder than usual. "You piece of-"

"Here ya go!"

Out of all the things or people he would have expected to intervene, Lena "Tracer" Oxton was not one of them.

~

Tracer smirked as her pulse bomb connected with Reaper, but her smirk disappeared really quick when he dissolved into smoke and the bomb fell right off. She blinked backwards, and the other guy, the guy in the visor, wisely backed up too. (What was his name... Soldier something-or-other? She'd seen him on the news a few times, and he couldn't be all bad if he was fighting Reaper. Even if he was copying Commander Morrison.)

"What a surprise," the edgy bastard growled, knowing full well he was outnumbered. _Wait_... Her mind went back to that day in the Overwatch Museum, where he'd- "Die, die, _die_!"

Tracer recalled quite literally just in time (ha!) and blinked behind a box from there, metal, who the bloody hell had metal boxes anyway, before glancing in Soldier Whatever's direction.

He'd quite literally disappeared, much to Tracer's disappointment, because she really hadn't wanted to deal with Reaper alone. _Where had he gone, anyway?_

"Guess it's your lucky day," he said darkly, "cause I've got better things to do than deal with an annoyance like you." He dissolved again into smoke, zoomed around before settling on a path to take, and a really confused (and slightly dizzy) Tracer followed him.

" _Oi!_ Get back here," she yelled after him indignantly. The smoke kept going. "I'm talking to you, Edgy Mc My Chemical Romance!" She blinked ahead of him, and experimentally shot at the smoke. Unsurprisingly, it didn't do shit. He just went around her and kept going.

"That's just sad," he muttered barely loud enough for her to hear when he reformed a little bit ahead, and kept walking, clearly not giving a crap about her. "I'm not sure whether to be amused or annoyed."

"Hey! I heard that!"

He chuckled darkly. "You were supposed to."

Tracer scowled. She didn't let that stop her from tackling Reaper down to the ground. (Hey, he was actually somewhat corporeal! Who would have known?)

"Oi! How ya doing out there?" She asked into comms, then groaned as Reaper ghosted out from under her. He pulled out a fresh pair of shotguns. She blinked backwards before he could open fire, and reloaded her own guns. "Any luck with the frog?"

"The _what?"_ Jesse McCree, the weirdo who thought it was okay to cosplay during missions. "I got no idea what ya mean, Oxton."

"The... sniper! She's French! French people are frogs, everyone knows that," she hesitated briefly, then added, "and don't call me Oxton!"

"Uh... yeah, she's pretty damn good. I've seen better, but the only one who could one-up her is dead."

It went without saying that he was talking about Ana Amari. Tracer wished she'd gotten to talk to her more. She'd seemed pretty cool.

"Diversion seems to be working," Brigitte cut in, surprisingly chill. Probably because she wasn't actually out in the fray, instead hanging back and guarding their ride home. "So, as long as Reinhardt isn't a dumb fuck and doesn't charge off any cliffs..."

"That was _one time!"_ Reinhardt protested. "And it wasn't like I did it on purpose!"

"McCree, if you could keep the sniper distracted a little longer..." Dr. Ziegler cut in. "Also, we are somewhat illegal, so callsigns, people. Tracer, any luck on the inside?" She rolled out of the way of another probably-fatal shotgun blast, and momentarily wondered if maybe she'd bungled up... nah, this was _fine_.

"Little trouble, nothing I can't handle!" She reported in an even higher-pitched voice than normal - whoops - and Reaper actually stopped shooting to double over in... was that laughter? Slimy bastard. "Um what no I'm not dealing with an edgy fuck that probably shops at Hot Topic and has fucking _shotguns_ -"

"First off, language," the doctor huffed. "Second-"

"Did you say shotguns?" McCree cut in urgently. "As in, two?" Tracer momentarily wondered how he knew, before deciding it didn't matter.

"Yeah-" Speaking of shotguns, Reaper had one leveled straight at her chronal accelerator. "-oh shit!" She blinked backwards almost before she knew what she was doing, and straight into, well, something. All she knew was that her skull felt cracked - yes, she knew what that felt like, thank you very much - and then everything went black.

~

"Lena? Lena!" Dr. Z said, panic leaking into her voice, and that meant this really couldn't be good. Then again, McCree had started to tune her out, being slightly more focused on catching up to this _damn sniper_. Just when he'd thought he'd had her, she'd gone and said something that caught him off-guard, that made him panic just long enough for her to make her escape.

"Would you like to know something, fool?" She'd said, haughtily, like he didn't have Peacekeeper to her head, like she had all the time in the damn world. "I killed her." McCree froze, damn it, and he shouldn't have. He shouldn't have hesitated. He should have just pulled the damn trigger right there. He should have done what Ana would have, if... she were still alive.

"Who?" McCree had asked, warily, not letting his guard down completely. Not yet. Even though they both knew who she was talking about.  
In that moment's confusion, the sniper lashed out. Landed a lucky strike in the family jewels, and used some sort of grappling hook to escape to a nearby rooftop. Then she looked back, features still blank, devoid of any and all emotion.

"Ana Amari."

So, he'd been trying to catch up to her for... only the past ten minutes or so, and despite the fact that she was probably long gone, McCree couldn't even admit to himself that he'd lost her.

"Hold on, I'm working on the security cameras... geez, they put a ton of work into their firewalls, but the cams are a literal piece of cake. This is almost sad," the girl who'd reputedly come with Reinhardt - Brigitte - said tiredly. "Anyway, looks like Hot Topic's gone. Tracer's still there. Go in and keep going a few hundred yards, it's kinda impossible to miss her."

And yet, McCree noted as he stared off into space and kinda tuned out the others again, this grim reaper had left her alive enough that Brigitte wasn't freaking out. Not by accident, he was sure. From the sound of things, this guy was ex-Blackwatch, so it couldn't have been by accident, and McCree figured he wasn't the type to show mercy, so maybe they were just retreating... well. That wasn't even what he was most worried about.

This son of a bitch, whoever he was, had the balls to copy Reyes. That was pretty much a giant fuck you to Reyes, considering how this was the kind of stuff he wouldn't have stood for, and the worst part was, McCree could already think of a few guys who were both halfway decent with shotguns and despicable enough to do this. This was _so fucking-_

_Fwap!_

McCree whirled around. Some sort of dart had embedded itself in the wall next to his head, and it had come from... _there._

He saw another sniper, and the other sniper was already looking at him... probably. (He couldn't exactly see through their mask, after all.) This wasn't the one he'd been chasing, sure, but that didn't mean this new one was friendly. He didn't take his eyes off them, but slowly, carefully, reached for his unfortunately-holstered gun... _damn it Jesse, what were you thinking-_

Fwap! This time the dart had gone straight between his arm and his chest, hitting the same wall, and not far from the other dart, either. McCree stopped to consider this. Either this new sniper wasn't worth their salt (who in their right mind would use a dart gun, anyway?) or... they were far better than they looked, and they weren't trying to hit him, just to get his attention. _Huh_. Well, he'd dealt with stranger.

McCree stared at them, not saying a word. Neither did the sniper, and although he couldn't make out anything behind that mask, he got the feeling that they were holding his gaze. It was slightly unnerving. Maybe just a little.

"Uh... folks," he began slowly, "we might just have ourselves some company." Of course, it was only once he said that when the sniper decided to skedaddle - although he noted that it was back towards where the battle had been, not away from it, they were still hightailing it. _Shit_.

"Really?" Brigitte asked, and McCree could practically hear her frowning. "I'm not picking anyone else up..."

McCree scowled, and hightailed it after the sniper as fast as his regrettably-short legs could carry him. He silently cursed whoever it had been to pass on their height to him, because god damn being short sucked. "Don'tcha worry about it, darlin'. I got this."

He actually _didn't_ have this, except that whoever this sniper was, they weren't too much faster than him. Or maybe they wanted him to follow them... well. _Too late now_.

~

Much to Dr. Angela Ziegler's relief, Lena was not beyond what she could fix. Actually, she wasn't even close to the limit, but after what happened last time... she wasn't sure she could trust it to not go horribly wrong again. So she was glad it hadn't been too bad. She had to wonder, though... why hadn't Reaper killed her? Was there still a hint of Reyes in there? Or... was it something else, something they wouldn't know about until it was too late to stop?

"...the bloody hell happened?" Lena asked tiredly, leaning heavily on Angela as they slowly made their way back to the ship. "Seriously. One sec, I was doing fine, and then... I think I blinked into something?" Brigitte cracked up.

"Oh my _god_ , I was right about the walls!" The other girl cheered. Reinhardt had stopped a little ways ahead of them, waiting for them to catch up. (Angela was grateful, even if Lena didn't seem to care.) Although she couldn't see the old knight's face, she suspected he was trying not to laugh. Years of being around the same people tended to help her get a read on them easily, and that usually paid off. Even if they all were idiots.

"I didn't blink into it on _purpose_ ," Lena said, quickly, indignantly, leaning slightly less on Angela. (She wondered how much of that was her actually needing it as opposed to her complete and utter gayness. Not that Angela cared enough to be bothered.)

"We know you didn't, but Lena, you need to be more careful," Angela insisted. Lena offered up an embarrassed grin, but the doctor's scowl didn't waver. "What were you thinking, fighting him _alone!?"_

Lena shrugged. "Well, someone had to do it, and the rest of you were a tad busy."

Angela realized Lena was right. They had been a little too thinly spread... and although they'd all made it out of this alive, this time, it had come far too close for comfort.

"Overwatch typically had four to a combat team," Angela mused aloud, "but they didn't run the risks we do now. Perhaps it would be better to increase the number to six."

"I mean, I got no problem with that!" Brigitte cut in. "Rather not do any shooting myself, but hey, I'll do what I've gotta. Also... what's going on with the cowboy? He hasn't said anything in a while... is he with you?"

Angela's eyes widened as she realized that Jesse McCree, almost as stupidly brave as they could come, hadn't said a thing in almost ten minutes. And he had been pretty talkative during the rest of the mission, so... this couldn't be good. _At all_.

"Sorry to worry y'all, though it's nice to know y'all care about me so much," Jesse broke in, and Angela could have cried tears of joy. (Obviously she didn't, because she had decades of practice holding emotions in, but the important thing was that she _could have_.) "But it's really not me ya should be worried about. 'Member what me an' Oxton were talkin about earlier?" Oooh. Angela didn't have to look at Lena to know that she was practically bristling with rage.

"Bloody hell, I _told_ you not to call me Oxton!" Lena burst out. "Tracer or Lena. Take your pick!" _Why is she so offended by this, anyway?_ Angela sighed.

Jesse groaned. "Fine, Lena an' I. Sorry. Old habits die hard, ya know...? Anyway, ya 'member how we thought Helix left someone behind? Well... I might just've found 'em."

~

Reinhardt couldn't believe it, and that was both good and bad. Good because... _Fareeha. Amari_. He hadn't heard that name in far too long, and... he'd missed her. Most of them had, just as most everyone knew how much she'd idolized Overwatch. She'd want to be here. She'd want to join them.

The bad was because of just how her path had crossed with Overwatch again: by nearly dying. How cliche. Reinhardt had been angry just at hearing that Helix would leave any one of its soldiers behind, but it became all too personal when the identity of that soldier was revealed.

 _Fareeha Amari._ The last time he'd seen her was at her mother's funeral, and he doubted either of them wanted to think of that. Still, though... how could Helix _do such a thing?_ It just wasn't right.

"Hey, big guy, you doing alright?" Brigitte asked, taking a seat next to him. He managed a shrug. "Okay... anyway. Not to intrude or anything, but that's... her daughter, isn't it?"

Slowly, carefully, Reinhardt nodded, and her mouth formed an 'o'.

"Well, anyway, thought you might wanna know," she continued after a long pause, "she's talking with the doctor now. Seems pretty chill. And I think she's gonna join us...? I think that's good."

Reinhardt nodded again. "I would not be surprised. She always did dream of being a part of Overwatch... and, in fact, that was the source of much conflict between her and her mother." His thoughts turned wistful. "If only she could see her now..."

~

"That was reckless," Jack said unhelpfully. Behind her mask, Ana Amari rolled her eyes.

"And you taking on G-Reaper alone wasn't?" She countered quietly, tiredly, hoping that he hadn't noticed her slip. "It would be so much easier if we went back. They'd be glad to know we aren't dead."

"And how do we know that none of them are traitors? On the chance that none of them are, this puts them all into far less danger."

They'd had this argument many times before, and the result never changed. Jack was too paranoid, too stubborn, and until he realized that rejoining Overwatch was truly the best course of action, Ana wasn't about to leave him behind.

"...fine. Let's just get out of here before the rest of Helix comes back."

She moved, and stopped in her tracks when she realized Jack wasn't. "Ana... you don't have to do this. If you want to go back, I won't stop you."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I want to go back. But I'm sticking with you anyway."

Jack had the sense to look confused. "Why?"

"Because, Jack Morrison, I've already lost two of my best friends once." She paused, staring out at nothing in particular. "I'm not losing you a second time."

Jack said nothing until they got back to the Necropolis, aka the ruins where they were currently hiding out and all sorts of fun, probably-illegal stuff. And even then, he waited a while.

"You don't want to see Reinhardt again?" He asked, finally, quietly. Ana stopped cleaning her rifle to fix him in his gaze. For a moment, it was almost like they were young again. Young and strong and able to take anything the world threw at them. _Ha, if only._

  
"As I said, Jack, don't get me wrong, I definitely do," she said softly. "But he's got everyone behind him. You only have me. So I will stay, at least for now. Until you stop being a stubborn idiot and agree that I'm right."

Jack groaned. "You really haven't changed a bit, have you, Ana?" That sobered her up real fast.

"...I have. We both have." Ana managed a smirk. "I'm still always right, of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized that I actually -can- do notes at the end (give me a break, I don't normally write a lot on AO3), and since that way I can talk about stuff that happened in the chapter, I figured yeah, sure, why the heck not. Jesse McCree has a potty mouth, as does Lena Oxton. One thing that a lot of fanfics do - that I disagree with - is having them already be friends. That probably wouldn't happen, mainly because of the whole Overwatch/Blackwatch thing, so they might be a little pissy at each other to start. They'll probably be bros before this is over, though. Don't be surprised if that happens.
> 
> In other news, Jack needs to stop being a paranoid old fart and man up. (Sorry, sorry, channeling my inner Ana there.) He actually has a very good reason for not wanting to go back... well, it seems very good to him, anyway. More like an excuse. And unfortunately for Overwatch, Jack Morrison is one of the most stubborn people in existence, so that's not happening for a while. Not unless something... drastic happens.
> 
> Also, for people wondering about snarky McCree: who was he trained by? The literal king of snark. So he got at least a little of that. Not the only thing he got from Blackwatch, either.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tõrbjœrń is apparently road tripping all the way to the Watchpoint. I wonder why? Could it have anything to do with what he's got in the back seat?  
> Also, Genji seems to be in trouble. Whoops I caught something in my eye, excuse me a moment.

She'd always been in his thoughts. Even now, years later, when she was gone forever, and had been for quite some time, he thought of her often. He had even before her daughter showed up. Now, though... now a minute didn't pass without her reappearing in his thoughts, on the rare occasion she disappeared at all. There'd been a time, once, long ago, when thinking about her this much had been normal for him, when it didn't hurt this much. When he was younger, and foolish, and made a mistake he'd forever regret. _Before._

"How ya doing, big guy?" Brigitte asked quietly, leaning back onto one of the few halfway decent couches left over from the old days, beer in one hand, datapad in the other. Neither was an unfamiliar sight with her. "Good? Bad? Neither? Somewhere in between?"

"Somewhere in between," he said finally, a little louder than her, although not by much. "I... did not sleep well last night." Her mouth formed an 'o', and he knew he didn't have to say anything more. It wasn't the first time this sort of thing had happened, after all, and he sincerely doubted it would be the last.

"Reinhardt, you've _got_ to talk to someone!" Brigitte paused, and reconsidered this. "Other than me, I mean. I'm shit at helping with this sort of stuff. I'm actually shit at most things, you know, you've heard the saying: jack of all trades, master of none... but that's changing the subject. You should talk to Dr. Ziegler. She probably knows her shit on this. More than I do, anyway."

Reinhardt smiled sadly, staring out at one of the Watchpoint walls without _really_ looking at it. "She wouldn't understand, I think."

"Really? Okay. Fine. Would I?"

"That would depend," he said with a faraway look in his eyes, both of them, even the unseeing one. "Have you ever really been in love?"

Brigitte frowned. "Yeah... _maybe_... sorta. Depends on the definition, and I get the feeling we have two different ones. What's yours?" Reinhardt had to think about that one, so he did so, and he thought hard. He didn't intend to, as Brigitte often said, 'half-ass it.'

"Love... it's different for everyone, I think, but there are some things that always stay the same. If you really love someone, you want them to be happy, and you'd do anything for them. You would even lay down your very life for them. Do you understand?"

Brigitte nodded slowly. "I think so. Kinda. _Maybe_. So... do you think she loved you back?"

"I do not know."

"Okay, let's just assume she did. For convenience's sake. She'd want you to be happy. She wouldn't want you to be beating yourself up over her. You get me?" Brigitte offered him a friendly smile, then got up. "Be right back, I gotta pee."

Days went by without an incident, mainly because Talon seemed to be laying low for the moment, and in that time, pretty much much everyone trained. (Even Brigitte did, despite her claiming, repeatedly, "I'll do everything but fight! You guys can handle that!") Fareeha - Pharah, her callsign was, and Reinhardt thought it quite appropriate after overhearing an explanation - settled in quite quickly, in an empty room not too far from her mother's. Reinhardt found her in there, once.

"I know you can't hear me," she was saying, quietly, holding something rectangular in her hands, "but... well. Can't really tell you myself, now, can I? Not yet, anyway... damn, I wish you were here."

"As do I," Reinhardt said softly. She whirled around, nearly dropping what she was holding - a photo frame, and he suspected he knew just the photo in it - and looked ready to punch something, before she realized who it was and calmed down slightly. "We all wish she was here." The proper thing to do probably would have been to say something similar about Jack, Gabriel, or both, but Reinhardt couldn't bring himself to bother with formalities. Not here. Not now.

"Oh, um. Yeah. Right. Uh... yeah," she stammered nervously, then took a deep breath. Reinhardt didn't have long to wonder why. "She... she talked about you a lot." The unspoken sentiment behind that statement didn't help, which, he supposed, was likely why she didn't say it.

"You as well, when she was here." Reinhardt paused, not really sure what to say next. Fareeha seemed to have the same dilemma, but she figured something out sooner.

"So... Reinhardt. I... you know..." The knight waited patiently as Fareeha silently struggled for something good to say, then finally blurted out, "I had a poster of you on my wall when I was younger." It went without saying which poster it was, mainly because there hadn't been many starring him, and even fewer of those were actually good ones. As Ana had said, jokingly, once, "you're not exactly husbando material." Then she'd started grinning like an idiot and refused to explain more.

"I remember that poster!" Reinhardt exclaimed, secretly glad for a distraction. "My hair was amazing!" Fareeha grinned. This was a slightly easier topic, for the both of them.

"You know what the best part is? I didn't even ask for it. Mom just... came home one day and said, 'here, take this.' I'm still not sure why she got it..." She trailed off, staring off into space.

"By any chance, do you still have that poster?"

Fareeha looked stunned for a moment, then shook her head. "Sorry, I'm. Uh. Not sure where it wound up? Wish I knew, because that would be going straight back on my wall, trust me."

Reinhardt nodded slowly. "Perhaps it's for the best..."

Fareeha didn't speak again, only nodding slowly, reluctantly. Eventually she backed out, leaving Reinhardt alone to remember the good times... and the bad.

 _Regardless_. The break from saving the world was pretty nice, no one would dispute that. But when a week went by without so much as a word from Torbjörn or Genji, Winston figured there had to be a problem somewhere.

Torbjörn's turned out to be pretty minimal: he was road tripping down from Sweden and had been going through a spot without much reception for almost the entirety of said week. As good as that explanation was, one still had to wonder why he was road tripping in the first place.

"D'you really think they'd let the likes of me on a _plane_?" Torbjörn practically growled, and it didn't take much to hear the sounds of the highway in the background. "It's debatable whether I'd get through security even without my gear, but this is far easier in the long run. Trust me on that." Easier, perhaps, but far longer, and potentially more dangerous.

"Fine, that's fine, I just-" Winston abruptly cut himself off, and adjusted his glasses with a frown. "Be careful, please." Torbjörn only laughed.

"Pah! Careful is my middle name!"

Lena frowned. "I thought you said it was 'hard-working'?" The people in the room with sharper ears heard Torbjörn swear under his breath in Swedish.

"That too! Anyway, if ya don't mind..."

Clanking came from not too far away, and a brief whirring sound. Reinhardt was, surprisingly, not the only one utterly confused by that. In fact, pretty much everyone on his side of the call had no idea what that was.

"Torbjörn... what was that?" Winston asked carefully. Torbjörn didn't answer for a bit, and when he did, it was equally carefully.

"Lil' something I'm bringing along, because I'll be _damned_ if I'm letting him out of my sight." More whirring, and a series of beeps. "You be quiet! I'm trying to drive here!"

"What- _who_ are you talking to?"

"Not important," Torbjörn insisted stubbornly. "Not until we get there, anyway. Best case scenario, Wednesday. If this damned _traffic_ doesn't clear up, Friday. Now, I'd better be going."

Torbjörn hung up without ceremony, and the group returned its attention to the other, _slightly_ more pressing issue: Genji Shimada. He hadn't responded to Winston's increasingly urgent attempts to contact him, and although his vitals hadn't gone offline (according to Angela, who admitted she couldn't see much other than that), he could be in trouble.

"So," Winston said rather awkwardly, "who wants to go to Hanamura and eat ramen? I heard they have good ramen."

The only response was that of someone very audibly facepalming.

~

The team for that was made up of three people: Jesse McCree, Lena Oxton, and Dr. Angela Ziegler herself. Obviously, this was somewhat stealth-oriented, which made Angela question the choice of all three of them. The Valkyrie suit wasn't exactly inconspicuous, after all, Lena was practically a celebrity in herself, and Jesse was... Jesse. But, as she reminded herself when Jesse tossed her a faded grey sweatshirt several sizes too large for her, Jesse had also been a part of Blackwatch, and a pretty integral part of it, too.

"Alrighty, doc, can ya fit your, uh... wings? Under that?" He asked. Angela frowned, and thought. "Actually, anythin' ya can make more compact would help, 'cause we're goin' in undercover." Angela was still thinking when Lena zipped in, noticeably minus anything that she wasn't normally wearing, and Jesse groaned.

"Sorry, love!" Lena said, zipping out again, and walking in again with a hoodie in the same nondescript grey. "It's gonna be hard to not blink around, ya know." As Jesse glared at her, Angela experimentally folded in her wings a little, then pulled over the sweatshirt. It wasn't exactly what she'd normally be wearing, but she could work with it.

"Well if ya- fine. You gonna keep doin' that, I see if that mechanic girl wants to come. At least she won't do _that_."

Lena scowled. "I can control myself fine, love. I was just messing with you!"

"Screwin' around's only good when it doesn't screw up the mission."

"Well we're not on a mission yet, so shove _off!"_

Angela momentarily wondered just how these two had gotten so at odds, before realizing that it didn't matter right now. She cleared her throat, getting their attention away from each other and back to her.

"You two are just as bad as Jack and Gabriel, I swear," she muttered, then got identical shocked expressions. "Near the end. Not... you know what, never mind. Jesse, I think this'll work. Won't be perfect, but nothing is. Lena, please don't do anything dumb." Well, she supposed asking that was pointless, considering who she was talking to... but it was worth at least getting her thinking about it.

"Oh, we're not done yet, ladies," Jesse said lazily, rummaging again through the box of clothes. "Got a lot more work to do before we can get out there, and that's without following all the regs we used to."

Several hours and plane trips later, the trio arrived in Hanamura. Jesse was leading the group, mainly because of his Blackwatch experience, and although Angela felt utterly out of place in the sweatshirt, sweatpants, and beanie he'd insisted she wear, nobody spared her a glance in the crowded city. Lena was too busy gaping at everything to do anything too dumb - actually, she was playing the role of a tourist pretty well right now. Neither she or Angela had actually been here before, after all... Jesse, meanwhile, definitely had. He'd been a pretty big part of the effort to bring the Shimada down, so unlike the other two, he actually knew his way around.

"That's Rikimaru Ramen over there, we should _really_ hit it on the way back. _Good_ shit," he said cheerfully, pointing towards a shop on the corner. "They were one of the few places that outlasted the Shimada... and actually, y'all wanna know somethin'?"

"No-" Lena shut up when she was on the receiving end of a glare from Angela. " _Fine. Go ahead_." Jesse tipped his ever-present hat to her mockingly, and soon found himself also on the receiving end of a similar glare. At this point, Angela was _so_ done with them. Forget them arguing like Jack and Gabriel, she thought, slightly exasperated, at least those two were friends at _some_ point in time. These two needed to get it together, or it would come back to get them later.

"Uh... well. Anyway, place was way different when the Shimada were 'round, ya know? Less alive. S'a good change, an' I feel like if they'd done much, it'd be feelin' more like before."

Angela opened her mouth to respond, then shut it before she could say anything too dumb.

"Though," Jesse continued, "somethin's definitely off. Call it whatever ya want, but this ain't right. Anyway, doc, ya got a readin' on Shim- _Genji?"_ Angela pretended not to notice his slip-up as she brought up the screen and checked. Genji had hated being called by his last name, so, so much. He'd almost just put 'Genji' in the system, and probably would have, too, if Gabriel hadn't caught on before things went too far.

Apparently, Jesse either didn't know or didn't care, and Angela suspected that if he knew, he'd care. Regardless, she returned her attention to the display, and as what it was telling her fully registered, she let out a small gasp.

Genji was- no, he couldn't be. His vitals were still going, although Angela couldn't see the specifics. Well, she could, but... no. She couldn't. That would be a blatant invasion of his privacy, and she couldn't do that. Not as his doctor. Not as his friend.

"He hasn't changed position at all since just before we left the Watchpoint," Angela said quietly. Jesse understood her implications immediately. Lena, meanwhile, took a bit longer. Her reaction, on the other hand...

"But that was _hours_ ago!" Lena blurted out a little too loudly, getting some sideways glances in the process. Jesse shot her a look. "I... sorry." The cowboy said nothing immediately, instead ducking into a rather convenient, rather empty side street. The others followed him.

"Dr. Z, how close is he?" Jesse asked, now all business. Angela frowned.

"Close, in... roughly that direction," she said, pointing. "Within a few hundred yards. I don't have the layout of the city, though. I only have our coordinates and his."

Jesse exhaled loudly, an action Angela knew was him attempting to stay calm. "That'll haveta do. Before we get any further, we need ta get our story straightened out."

"Story?" Lena asked. "Whaddya mean, story?"

"Ya know, cover story? One'd think that ya never run a black ops mission before... oh, _wait_."

"I've watched enough spy movies to know what a cover story is! So, _Mr. Black Ops_ , what's ours?"

For the first time since the ramen shop, Jesse grinned. "We're Joel, Leah, an' Annie Smith. Cousins from the States, Texas if anyone asks, here 'cause Leah here decided we should visit Japan and this was the cheapest place to get in. None of us can navigate for shit, so we have a reason to be lost in places we shouldn't be in."

"But... only you have an American accent?" Angela pointed out. Jesse made finger guns at her.

"Jus' let me do the talkin', don't make any sudden moves, and be ready for anythin'. An' Doc? Be prepared to put away that screen the instant anyone else shows up."

Angela nodded. "Understood." Lena did as well, albeit grudgingly.

"Now, if ya have to talk, do not talk in your native accent. Sound like me if ya haveta. Sound good?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Then let's do this."

~

He didn't say anything, instead choosing to stare down the man - a Shimada, but not anyone he recognized instantly - with a cold glare that betrayed nothing of his true feelings. The man returned it, although he clearly wasn't as practiced. He had the upper hand, for now, despite the fact that he was visibly manacled and the man was not.

"What would prompt you, of all people, to return now?" The man mused aloud, and although his face remained stoic, his heart sank. "Perhaps it had something to do with that disgusting omnic? I would have thought you'd keep better company than that." His expression didn't change. Still impassive, unreadable, unaffected. Inside, however, it was a vastly different story. Good news, they didn't know the true identity of his companion. Bad news, they thought he was an omnic, and they both knew full well what the clan thought of omnics.

"Where is he?" He asked carefully, keeping his face even, but there was no denying the look in the man's face. He thought he'd found a weakness he could exploit. _It is a weakness,_ he grudgingly admitted, _but not one they could exploit._ He would not allow that. If they knew the whole story, there was no telling what they would do. The situation would only worsen for both of them, and he suspected it was already quite dire.

"Truthfully, I don't know," the man admitted, and he raised an eyebrow. "It would depend on how competent my men were in carrying out my orders." Against his better judgment, hope flared within him. Perhaps his face betrayed that, because the man laughed.

"The... omnic is either dismantled, or soon to be. We disposed of it like the trash it was."

The dragons stirred within him, reacting to his anger, and he had to force them back down. Now was not the time, and if the man - and by extension, the Shimada - still believed he was an omnic, then they once again hadn't finished the job. There was still some hope, he supposed, although he'd never had much faith in anything of the sort.

"Answer our questions, and perhaps you will not suffer a similar fate."

He glared back at the man. "I will _die_ before I tell you _anything_."

"Then so be it. Rest assured, _Hanzo_ , we will make you suffer first."

~

They got surprisingly close before running into anyone, and it was a bizarre combination of luck, what she was wearing, and the fact that she was bringing up the rear that kept Angela from being spotted. She ducked into the shadows just in time, and stayed stiller than a statue and quieter than a mouse as the group of guards - Shimada goons, for certain - tried to figure out what to make of Jesse and Lena.

"Well, howdy, y'all," Jesse drawled effortlessly, making finger guns at the one in front. "Whatcha doin'? And actually, do ya know where the... _damn_ , can't remember the name... Leah, help me out here!"

"I dunno!" Lena insisted after a moment's hesitation, in a terrible imitation of Jesse's accent - although she didn't sound British - and genuinely looking confused. "You said you knew!"

Angela was on the verge of shaking her head at how dumb they were acting, but then one of the guards did the same. The guard, however, took it one step further by leaning over to another and whispering something. Angela didn't have to be close to know that what they were saying was something along the lines of "stupid Americans."

"Look," the one in front said hesitantly, in heavily-accented but otherwise perfect English, "whatever you're looking for isn't here. I would advise you to leave."

Jesse looked even more confused, and Angela realized she probably should have given him more credit for being such a good actor. "Well, how d'we know that what we're lookin' for ain't here, huh? What's here, anyway?"

Several of the guards behind the one who'd spoken glanced to the right, and Angela realized this was their chance. She sneaked off in that direction slowly, quietly, and as soon as it was safe, she pulled up her screen once more. It confirmed her suspicions: Genji was over here, _somewhere_. And she had to find him, before it was too late.

"Perhaps you are looking for Rikimaru?" The guard's voice rang out as she turned a corner and saw... _him_. "That is a good place, many of your people go there." Angela's hand went up to her mouth as she stared in shock. Genji was alive, according to her sensors, but... _God_ , she hoped for his sake that he wasn't awake, because that extensive of damage... well, there wasn't much she could compare it to, except for what he'd gone through before everything, before Overwatch.

The hand he used for shuriken was in pieces, and that wasn't even the worst of it. Torn wires and metal shards were everywhere, parts of his chestplate looked torn (and she shuddered to think of what could tear reinforced metal like _that_ ) and his visor was cracked, as well as not glowing the vibrant green she remembered, not even a little. That was what worried her the most, and she couldn't help but glance again at her screen, to make sure the worst had not come to pass while she was taking it all in. (It had not; Genji was holding on. She prayed he could hold on a little longer.)

"Genji...?" She asked, quietly, tentatively, knowing full well how much danger both of them would be in if anyone, or anything, heard her. No response. Angela forced down her rising panic, because panicking would not help at all, and instead took his other hand, his mostly-intact one, in hers.

The light of his visor flickered to life, although, she noted with alarm, it was much weaker than she could ever remember it being. _They... really did a number on you, huh?_

"A-An-Angela...?" His voice synthesizer was glitching far too much. He tried to move, and got a response only from that one arm. Slowly, he moved it to his heart, in a gesture Angela had only seen a few times before, and she was pretty sure it was a greeting. "Y-yo." He didn't move it again.

"Can you...?" Before she could so much as complete the thought, he shook his head slightly. "I didn't even-"

"F-finish the-the sentence. Y-y-yeah. I know. H-hold on a s-s-sec."

Angela frowned, but waited until she heard a click. "What was that?"

"Disabled... the synthesizer," he said in a perfectly normal, but far weaker-sounding voice. (That worried her more than she cared to admit.) "It was getting annoying. Anyway... pretty much anything you'd ask me to do is something I really... can't do."

Angela sighed. "Great. Suppose I'll have to carry you, then."

She didn't have to see his face to know it was filled with a complete and utter confusion.

"You- what? Wait, why are you even here?" As she considered tuning him out, trying to figure out how to get him out of here without making things any more awkward than they already were, something else finally registered for him, because there was no way he wouldn't have commented on it otherwise. "And what are you wearing?"

"I'm going to have to carry you out, clearly," she huffed, and before she could convince herself otherwise, picked him up bridal-style. "We're here to save you, and the outfit was Jesse's idea. If you think this is bad, you should see Lena. She's wearing a _hoodie_. Now hush up so we don't get caught."

Either Genji was lighter than she'd anticipated, or she was stronger than she thought. Regardless, she couldn't help but wonder how they hadn't run into anyone... and there were two distinct possibilities she could think of.

One, they'd just gotten really, really lucky. She supposed that was possible, but it wasn't exactly probable.

Two, Jesse McCree was doing a disturbingly good job of keeping the guards occupied.

~

"There's... I don't know what else there is, you-" The guard who'd done most of the talking cut himself off. "Maybe... no, you don't look like... hmm. What about a..."

The guard was clearly uncomfortable with the subject, so McCree, ever the charmer/smartass (depending who you asked) decided to help him along a bit. "A what?"

"Are you... what's the word... _lesbians?"_

It didn't take a genius to figure out that this had merely stemmed from the guard's misunderstanding of the English language, but McCree wasn't about to let a golden opportunity like this go to waste. He'd noticed already that Angela had disappeared, and she would need as much time as the two of them could give her.

"Did you just _assume my gender?"_ McCree stammered, sounding outraged, and it wasn't entirely made up. Even if his anger was at something else entirely, not the guard's slip-up. "Wrongly," he added for good measure. The guard only looked confused.

"I didn't... what...?"

"Do I look like a girl to you, ya son of a gun?" McCree practically spat. "I have balls, ya know! Balls of _steel!_ And I'd be happy to show ya 'em!"

Oxt- Lena was doing a very good job of not bursting out laughing. He had to give her credit for that. "Umm... Joel! I really don't think now is the time-"

Fortunately, she seemed to have caught on. So, he reached down, and... _zzzzip_.

"Was that _really_ necessary?" Lena asked later, as the two headed back to the cheap-ass motel the group was currently staying in. "I mean, don't get me wrong, that 'did you just _assume my gender_ ' bit?" (She'd done a crappy imitation of his voice that made him want to cringe.) "That was comedy gold. But did we _really_ have to get literally _escorted_ back to our 'hotel' because of your stunt?" McCree had said a different place on instinct, a place on the other side of town, and considering how much the two of them - fine, just him - had pissed them off, he was honestly surprised they hadn't just escorted them to the police, instead. He'd had a plan for that, ironically, but not the hotel. The hotel was what threw him off. _Reyes woulda done better._

"It got 'em distracted," he explained. Lena raised an eyebrow. "Didn'tcha notice that the doc was nowhere around?" The girl's eyes widened, and McCree had to wonder if that was the first time she'd noticed Dr. Z was gone.

"I- damn, so she...?"

"Found Genji, hopefully, while we were foolin' around."

They weren't disappointed when they got in and found that the doctor was not, in fact, alone.

~

"So, Genji," Angela continued in a tone practically dripping with sarcasm, "care to explain what in the devil you were doing?" Tracer gulped, and made a mental note (well, _another_ one) not to make her mad, 'cause she was mostly scary when she was pissed, and maybe a little hot.

 _Stop it, Lena,_ she chided herself, _you've got someone now! You don't have to pine over straight girls! ...wait, is she straight?_ She... didn't actually know. Maybe she'd ask at some point, 'cause she was curious, but not curious enough to change the subject when Dr. Angela Ziegler was on the warpath.

 _Straight or not, she_ is _hot,_ Tracer thought with a grin. _But Em'll be the one for me... hey, I'm rhyming! Would ya look at that! I'm a poet and I didn't know it!_

"The Shimada clan is rebuilding," Genji said with an edge to his voice that, Tracer remembered, he had all the time the few times she'd trained with or against him. He'd said the word 'Shimada' especially like it were poison... wait, wasn't that his last name? "Did you seriously expect me to do nothing? After what they've done... everything they've done?" Tracer took a moment to think, trying to remember what she knew about the guy.

Okay, so he'd been basically murdered by someone related to him, someone he'd trusted. Then the doc saved his life, and in return, he'd pissed off. Tracer had to wonder why the cowboy and Angela cared about him so much. If she'd been in either of their places, she probably would have told him to sod off and dumped him at the earliest opportunity that he wouldn't die as a result of, because she wasn't _that_ petty. Not usually, anyway.

 _And... there's something going on between him and the doctor, for sure!_ Then again, 'something' was a very vague term. Tracer didn't know enough to know for sure, and she knew from experience that asking only led to awkwardness all around, even if they were made for each other... so she had to guess.

She figured there could be a ton of reasons why Angela was yelling her head off at Genji right now, and most of them had nothing to do with romance, but Tracer had always been a romantic. So that was, of course, the conclusion her mind jumped to instantly. Instead of doing something similar to what had happened with Commanders Morrison and Reyes, because that _really_ hadn't ended well, she started paying attention to the conversation again.

"-wait," Angela was saying, confusion momentarily overtaking her complete and utter pissiness, "you weren't alone?" Genji shook his head slightly. He really hadn't been able to do much more than that when Angela first found him, supposedly, and although an emergency video call with Torby helped Angela fix him up enough to (probably) not be in any danger of dying, he wasn't anywhere near his usual ninja-y stuff.

"No, I was not," Genji insisted. "My brother was with me. And-" Apparently Genji's 'brother' wasn't exactly well-liked, because both Angela and the cowboy visibly reacted. Although Angela's face betrayed nothing, she was gripping her staff so tightly that her knuckles soon began to turn white. The cowboy - fine, Jesse - was quite the opposite. His expression looked bloody murderous, and judging by the way he was fiddling with his gun and its holster, he was suddenly itching to shoot someone. _Who_ was _this guy?_

"You actually ran _into_ that son of a gun?" Jesse stammered first, quite literally an open book compared to Angela - and who was the ex-Blackwatch? "Please tell me you put a few, whaddya call 'em, shur-ee-kins in his stomach." Genji's own expression was masked by his visor, but Tracer got the feeling he knew something they didn't... _wait. It was his brother who tried to kill him! But then, why would he be helping him...? God_ damn _, this was bloody confusing._

" _Shurikens_ ," Genji corrected, "and no. We were trying to bring them down for good, then go our separate ways... it didn't go well."

"Dead or captured?" Jesse asked, making it very obvious that he would much prefer dead. Genji thought on this for a bit.

"Captured, I think. They took me for an omnic, which is why they basically threw me out with the trash. Not that I'm complaining, since it landed me with you guys."

Tracer had to wonder how the bloody hell he could be remotely calm about this. Seriously.

"Alright," the doctor said, mostly to herself. Tracer wondered if she'd forgotten everyone else was there, or if that was just a chronal disassociation thing. Probably a chronal disassociation thing. "We clearly can't get you on a commercial flight, so we'll have to get someone to fly the transport out here... maybe that Brigitte girl? Hmm..."

"Hold up," Genji said suddenly, quite literally holding up a hand. Tracer would have laughed, except that this _probably_ wasn't a good time. "I'm not leaving Hanamura without Hanzo."

Angela had been pacing back in forth through the cramped motel room (meant for maybe two people, not four) since they'd gotten here, but she'd stopped in her tracks when Genji said that. "You... _what?"_

"Being held captive by the Shimada clan is a fate worse than death," Genji said softly, "and not one I would wish upon my worst enemies."

"But he-"

"Killed me, I know," he interrupted, and laughed humorlessly. "It is complicated, I will not deny that. But please trust me when I say that he does not deserve to be abandoned in there."

There was a long silence, and an equally-silent staring contest between the cyborg and the doctor, before Angela sighed, and dismissed her screen. "I suppose we can try. It'll take longer to get you patched up without the Watchpoint facilities, and you likely won't be as capable as normal... but we can try."

"Then let's do this," Genji said, and gave her a thumbs up. "I can live without being too much of a badass for a few days, anyway."

Tracer merely grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this was not an easy decision, but I had to make it sometime, so... Gency. (In case parts of the chapter didn't make it obvious.) I do love Pharmercy, too, don't get me wrong, but Gency fits better with the story as a whole, and yeah. If you're one of those people who absolutely hates straight ships, well first off you shouldn't be here because this is an Anahardt-centric fic, and second off, grow up! I'll ship pretty much anything that's well-written, and although (for example) I much prefer Anahardt, I will still read Ana76 fic if it's at least well-written.
> 
> Sorry, opinions. Bit of a rant back there. Gency and any ships tagged other than Anahardt will be primarily background ships, so if you're here for the Anahardt, that's most of what will happen. I don't plan on writing anything remotely smutty, by the way, this fic is tagged as Mature due to language and (possibly) violence, not smut, so... yeah.
> 
> The R76 is quite important to the story, so it'll get a significantly bigger role than most of the other ships. Anahardt will always, always come first, though. Don't forget that. I know there hasn't been a ton yet, because I'm making an effort to have an actual plot, but there will be quite a lot before the curtain falls.
> 
> In other news, guess who's in the projected path of Hurricane Irma? That's right, yours truly. Not hitting me until Monday, but I have school off until further notice, so expect me to do a lot of writing, 'cause that's what I do when I'm stressed and I've got nothing better to do. However, I may not be able to post anything for a bit if the power goes out like it did for Matthew, please keep that in mind. Fingers crossed!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Hanamura team reluctantly goes back for Hanzo, expecting a tough fight, and not really getting much of anything. Why? Well... let's just say, it's the perfect day for some mayhem... please tell me that hint was obvious enough.

"I think we're ready," Angela said finally, almost reluctantly. _Yes!_ "And before we get started, please don't do anything stupid."

Behind his faceplate, Genji smirked. Yeah, nobody knew it but him, and he didn't mind. Too much.

"Define stupid," he countered with a shit-eating grin on... unfortunately behind the mask. _Damn_. Angela groaned. "What? You know you love me." Okay, maybe the mask was a good thing, 'cause without it, he'd still be pretty much an open book. Being an open book... usually a bad thing. Sometimes a good thing. _Depends how you look at it._

"You know what, I'm just not going to dignify that with a response."

Genji's hidden smirk only grew. "But you just did."

He knew he'd gotten her with that. _Genji, 1, Angela, 0_.

"I- forget it! Does everyone remember the plan?"

"Impossible to forget, love," Tracer said with a wicked grin. "You've only gone over it a few million times, we'll be fine!"

Angela sighed, and buried her head in her hands. "The three most reckless people in Overwatch, and we're supposed to be on a stealth mission. This is an accident waiting to happen."

Nobody responded to that immediately, and for good reason.

"What're we waitin' for, anyway?" McCree asked finally, pulling his hat a little lower. "Somethin' to go wrong?"

"Nah, probably me," Brigitte said through the comms. There was a little static, but not too much. "Your ride is here, and will probably be good for about an hour. After that, it's kinda dependent on how dumb the ground controllers are, and whether they use their eyes."

That was... oddly specific, and slightly worrying, because usually people did use their eyes. Of course, there were exceptions. Sometimes people were just too dumb for their own good. Or too smart for their own good. It varied a lot.

"Then I suppose we'd better get going," Angela concluded. "Everyone ready?"

Genji nodded quickly, Tracer followed suit. McCree, on the other hand... well, Genji knew that look.

It meant he was about to say something either really dumb or really smart, and it usually wasn't the second option. There were maybe two times he could recall off the top of his head where he'd actually said something really smart, and hundreds that it was really dumb. So...

"Yeah, I'm ready. Got my boots, got my coffee," McCree said lazily, and took a sip from said coffee to emphasize whatever he was trying to prove. Whatever it was, all he'd succeeded in doing was confusing the girls, and Genji. "What, ya don't know the sayin'? Anythin's possible with coffee and cowboy boots, and we got both on our side."

Angela groaned. She looked very done with his shit. (She also looked very sexy, but that was normal. Genji was 99% sure that everyone in Overwatch had feelings for her at some point, and he couldn't blame them.)

"Fine," Angela said tiredly. "You know what? Let's just get this over with."

~

Hanzo was expecting (or perhaps hoping for) something to happen. He wasn't expecting or hoping for this. Blowing a hole in the side of the castle was not only rather stupid but also... not exactly Genji's style, which meant he had to have help. That was, of course, assuming whoever had set off that bomb was on Genji's side, or anyone's side. It could be someone acting entirely independently. Whatever side they were on, if any, Hanzo was not one to let an opportunity like this go to waste. He carefully noted the terror in the man's eyes, and wondered what would strike fear in a formerly fearless clan. _Overwatch?_ No, Overwatch was long gone. Some remnant of it, then. Or something else entirely.

"You, stay here," the man said unnecessarily (Hanzo was still chained to the table, after all) and left a little too quickly. This left him with some time, at least, to think. He thought wrong. The man wasn't even out of Hanzo's field of vision when some sort of massive projectile - _a hook, perhaps?_ \- dragged him roughly off to the right. His scream was abruptly cut off by some rather loud firearm, and although Hanzo didn't dare to even admit it to himself, he was wary of something, someone, that powerful. _What I wouldn't give for my bow right now_ , he thought, _or even to simply be unchained_. But it was not to be. At the moment, his only weapons were not showing the fear that - _fine_ \- was very much present in him, and... not much else.

When a huge, hulking mass of a man barely squeezed his way through the doorway, the thought occurred to Hanzo that maybe, just maybe, he was fucked.

"Oi! Lookit, Roadie!"

That outburst came from a much smaller, but no less dangerous-looking man... _is his hair on fire?_ Hanzo stared at the smaller man, or maybe man-child would be more accurate.

The man-child stared back, and then laughed. "I like this one! Can we keep 'im?"

Hanzo's quiet stare became a glare. "Can you not."

He bit back a few choice insults, because these two did not appear to understand Japanese, and on the off chance they did, insulting them was the last thing he wanted to do. That didn't mean he didn't think them, however. And think them he did.

"Oho! He can talk! So c'mon, Roadie, can we keep 'im? What was that ya were always goin' on about, mate, about how your enemy's mate is your enemy?"

The big man - _Roadie, perhaps?_ \- shook his head with a groan. "Your enemy's enemy is your friend."

"Roight, that! So can we keep 'im?"

'Roadie' sighed, and although Hanzo was no medic, it sounded like something in his respiratory system was all kinds of fucked up.

"No," the big man said flatly, turned, and squeezed his way back out the door. His partner - the man-child - waved, then laughed and dashed out.

"Not like you could have blasted these open while you were in here," Hanzo muttered darkly, only to himself, and experimentally tugged on the shackles. They didn't give. _What a surprise_.

~

"What the bloody hell _was_ that!?" Lena stammered over comms. Dr. Z cleared her throat meaningfully. "Right, right, sorry! Don't think we really need to be quiet right now, though! They seem kinda distracted!"

 _Actually, 'kinda distracted' doesn't really cut it_.

From what McCree could tell, some third party had blown up a part of the base, and the Shimadas - _Shimada? He'd never figured that out_ \- were slightly more worried about that than a threat they didn't even know existed.

 _Can't really blame 'em_ , he thought. _Makes our job a helluva lot easier, anyways_.

"That was an explosion, obviously," the doctor said in a tone that implied there'd be trouble if anyone else asked more 'obvious' questions, "and we can't be too careful."

"Actually, we can," Genji said helpfully. "There was this one time-"

A groan from Mercy and the sound of her audibly facepalming were enough to get Genji to shut up, at least for now.

"Genji, please," she muttered. 

"So, uh, I hate to interrupt this tender moment," McCree said, not bothering to hide his smirk, not that there was anyone around to see it anyways, "but Genji, where would they be keeping your... brother?"

McCree couldn't understand how Genji could forgive someone like that, something like that. He wouldn't have. The Genji he'd known from Blackwatch, before they'd gone their separate ways, wouldn't have. So what changed?

He had to admit it was probably a good change. Genji had always been angry, back then.

 _Was he justified? Sure_.

 _Was it kinda off-putting?_ _Yeah_.

If this had been the real Genji all along and he was back to being himself, well, good for him. It meant everything he remembered of Genji was a lie, but hey. Good for him. McCree just hoped this brother of his would actually, well, want to be rescued. And wouldn't try and kill Genji again. That would really suck. And as long as his name was Jesse McCree, he wouldn't let that happen.

"West wing, if they've kept things anything like they were... uh, anyway," Genji sounded increasingly uncomfortable with the subject. "You are the closest, McCree, so we should take advantage of the guards being distracted and find him."

"That's only what I've been trying to tell you for the past five minutes," Dr. Z said in that tone that meant they were all in for it when they got back, "but alright. Get out there. Or in there, I've given up on differentiating."

Genji drew in a sharp breath. "McCree? Don't do anything too drastic."

They both knew what he meant, and although McCree didn't exactly feel like listening, he owed it to Genji to.

"Yeah, sure, I gotcha. I won't shoot the guy," McCree said. He frowned as he crept through what he assumed - more like hoped - was the west wing of the castle.

"Yet," he added too quietly for the comms to pick up as he turned the corner and suddenly, inexplicably, found himself looking down a rather long hallway at two rather unhinged-looking figures. "...well, shit."

 _I guess these fellas are the distraction, but who_ are _they?_

One of the figures, the smaller one by far, was talking so loudly that neither had heard him, but McCree knew better than to assume his luck would hold. It usually didn't. Well, no. It usually did until he started relying on it. Then everything went to shit.

He ducked into a doorway, and closed the door behind him as quietly as he could... lotta good that'd do him if the other two heard him. The good news was, they probably hadn't, because nobody came in. That was the good news. Thing is, it was only after McCree's adrenaline rush had begun to fade that he realized he wasn't exactly alone... and he figured this wasn't exactly bad news, either, but still.

"What do you mean?" Dr. Z asked anxiously. "Jesse? Is everything okay?"

He took a deep breath, and the Blackwatch side of him noted that the air wasn't exactly clean.

 _Not that it matters that much,_ _of course_ , he thought.

It wasn't like he'd be here long enough for it to be an issue, and he had bigger fish to fry.

"If by 'okay' you mean I just found both the folks who're causin' all the commotion and prob'ly who we're lookin' for in the bargain, then yeah, sure," McCree said. "Otherwise, I don't think so."

He looked the man up and down carefully. _Blackwatch skills!_

The first thing he noticed was that if he was a girl, he'd be flirting left and right to get this guy in bed, because _hot damn_.

The second thing he noticed was that this guy probably wasn't the type to get in bed with just anyone.

The third was that this guy was quite literally handcuffed to the table, and maybe that should have been the first thing he noticed.

 _Dammit_.

"Are you with Genji?" The guy asked curtly, extinguishing any and all doubts in McCree's head that this was Genji's brother. He nodded quickly.

_Why is this bastard so damn attractive?_

It took all his willpower not to draw Peacekeeper and shoot the bastard right here, and an equal amount of willpower not to bust out a cheesy pickup line involving that Japanese ninja show and that one character that kept transforming into a blonde chick.

_There'll be time for that shit later._

_...maybe._

"Yeah, it's him all right," McCree continued into comms, and as an idea struck him, he couldn't keep from grinning.

"Hold still," he told Genji's brother with a smirk worthy of the goddamn Cheshire Cat.

He drew Peacekeeper, aimed quickly, and let loose a single bullet - _bang_ \- at the lock.

Genji's brother's shackles broke, and although the guy was clearly trying very hard not to show anything - _nice fucking try_ \- McCree hadn't been in Blackwatch for nothing.

The guy was intimidated at best, and probably thought him crazy.

 _Good,_ McCree thought, smirking even more.

If Hanzo Shimada thought he was crazy, well, who was he to tell him different?

It'd keep him from trying anything, anyway.

 _Probably_.

"...there are much better ways to break those," Hanzo muttered dryly, rubbing his wrists. McCree's smirk only grew. "And what are you even supposed to be?"

McCree tipped his hat in what normally would be a gesture of respect, although right now it really wasn't and he really hoped Hanzo wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

"Cowboy, obviously. What else?"

"A lunatic."

It took a second for the insult to register at all, and another for it to register as an insult. It was just _that_ _much_ out of the blue, and McCree honestly wasn't sure what to make of it.

Well, alright, it only added to his growing desire to shoot the bastard and be done with it, but he couldn't do that.

Yet.

He chose to ignore the guy's answer, instead rolling over to the door and reloading in the same motion.

"How is anybody supposed to take you seriously in that?" Hanzo pressed, and McCree barely held back a nasty scowl. This guy was not helping.

"They're not," McCree said, and, slipping a flash bang from his belt, stepped into the hallway.

 _Someone there?_ _Too fucking bad._

His reflexes were faster than the other guy's, and before the other guy could so much as draw his gun, McCree tossed the flashbang into his face and emptied Peacekeeper into his gut. The other guy crumpled, and it was only after he fell that McCree recognized the face of the guard who he and Lena had distracted not long earlier. It was sure nice seeing karma at work, and his casual smirk returned at seeing that.

 _Well now... his loss_.

"'Sides, I've got too good'f aim to be too crazy," McCree continued.

"Really," Hanzo said in a tone that suggested he didn't believe one word of what McCree had just said. Bastard. "What you just did. That did not require good aim."

McCree laughed dryly, and the two crept down the now-deserted hallway. Well, McCree did. He was mildly surprised when he glanced back and found that Hanzo was still following him.

"Nah, but it takes skill to keep'm from going too far off target," he said finally. "An' it worked, so I'm not complainin'."

Hanzo groaned aloud, causing McCree to stop in his tracks and wonder _what the fuck is his problem now_.

"Can you stop that."

"Stop what?"

"That ridiculous accent. It can't possibly be your actual one."

 _Oh, so that's his problem?_ McCree smirked, and continued onwards. _His loss._

"You'd be surprised, pardner. Looks like someone ain't ever been down to Santa Fe."

Okay, technically he hadn't been there in years, so maybe things had changed...

Maybe he'd spent the majority of his childhood in a small town, practically a ghost town, just outside of Deadlock Gorge, a few bad years in Deadlock Gorge itself, and the rest of the time in Blackwatch, where maybe he never actually went back home, nevermind Santa Fe...

Alright, fine, maybe he was exaggerating it a little...

_...but this bastard does not need to know that._

"An' anyway... I learned to shoot from the best there ever was."

"Who, Clint Eastwood?" McCree glanced back at Hanzo incredulously. This guy was _really_ pushing his luck today.

"Nah, Ana Amari."

_It started when Reyes insisted on changing his range hours. Guy never did give an explanation, but the kid from Deadlock Gorge soon found himself sharing the range with only one other: some lady with a weird-ass tattoo under her eye. He'd always been pretty observant, so it didn't take him long to figure out something that really didn't make sense. Not that much did anymore, but... well. Anyway._

_Thing was, Tattoo Lady could shoot a hell of a lot better than he ever had._

_That wouldn't be an issue, shouldn't be an issue, except Jesse McCree had always been a little too competitive for his own good._

_Before Deadlock, he'd been good at two things: bluffing his way out of anything and shooting. Everything else, he kinda sucked at, but he could bluff out of anything, and he could shoot better than anyone. Then he found himself in a place he couldn't talk his way out of: Deadlock._

_People talked smoother, bluffed better, lied easier in Deadlock, and they sure as hell could shoot better. McCree could have given up, and resigned himself to dying alone as some unknown member of a backwoods gang that no one cared about. But he didn't. He watched the guys who were better than him, learned what worked and what didn't. And he practiced his fucking ass off. By the time Deadlock got busted a couple years later, he was doing pretty well for himself._

_Then the guys calling the shots meddled in something they shouldn't have. Namely, they screwed with Overwatch. That was a mistake on their part, because Blackwatch was on their asses within a week._

_McCree didn't know why Reyes had given him that offer. He didn't know why he'd accepted it, or why he'd given the guy his real name._

_Not that it did any good, 'cause he knew for a fact that Deadlock wiped any trace of their members off the records._

_He hadn't been around long, but he knew one thing for sure: he wasn't about to let himself be beat out here. Not by some weird old lady with a tattoo, not by anyone._

_He carefully noted the way she aimed, with the skill of someone who had both raw talent and years upon years of practice. McCree hadn't always been observant; that was a Blackwatch thing, and he was definitely making use of it now. Probably wasn't the way Reyes had intended for him to use that skill, but to hell with it._

_Reyes wanted him to get better? Then he'd do it his own damn way._

_One day, he got to the range before her. That in itself was odd, but as he practiced, she didn't show up her usual spot. Eventually, as he was reloading, he happened to glance at the door and got something of a surprise._

_She was there, leaning against the frame, watching him. He nearly dropped his gun - but he didn't! - and as his gaze met hers, he saw a clear challenge in her gaze._

_Show me what you've got, her eyes said, and Jesse McCree was more than happy to oblige._

_He reloaded his gun, and returned his attention to the range, where a bunch more training bots had come out... six, to be exact. The number of many things, but most importantly, the number of bullets his gun could hold._

_All of a sudden, like a bolt out of a clear blue sky, he had an idea._

_Was it kinda dumb? Yeah._

_Was it really dumb? Hell yeah._

_But it was just dumb enough that maybe, just maybe, it would work._

_"It's high noon," McCree murmured barely above a whisper. Thankfully, the bots had stopped moving... he aimed and fired, as quickly as he dared, six times in a row. Five of his bullets met their marks.The sixth missed, barely, because the bot chose right then to move. It didn't last long, though._

_A shot from behind him felled the sixth before he had a chance to aim again, and he had a feeling he knew who it was from. He glanced back, and wasn't too surprised to see Tattoo Lady reloading her rifle as she came up from behind._

_"Now, technically I'm not supposed to do that," she said with a smile, "but I think I can trust you not to tell on me. You're the kid Gabriel brought in, right?"_

_McCree nodded numbly, and realized after a second that whoever she was, she was on a first name basis with Reyes. That meant she had to be important... right? Maybe?_

_"You're not bad," she continued after a moment. "Got a long way to go, but seems to me like you can do it."_

_That was nice, except that he was still completely and utterly confused._

_"Well, uh... thanks, ma'am...?"_

_"Oh, right," she offered him a hand, and another smile. "Ana Amari."_

_McCree simply stared for a moment, because holy. Fucking. Shit._

_Yeah, he kinda had been living under a rock for the past couple years - Deadlock didn't exactly help - but he at least knew who Ana Amari was. Everyone knew her name, as well as five others, and she was just..._

_Holy._

_Fucking._

_Shit._

_"Well, uh, um," McCree stammered nervously, "name's McCree. Jesse. McCree. Nice to, uh, meetcha? Ma'am."_

_Ana Amari laughed._

_"Just call me Ana. Ma'am makes me sound like somebody's cranky Christian grandma."_

"I had halfway decent aim before, but she taught me better," McCree explained, honestly not sure why he was bothering with explaining to Genji's brother, of all people. Maybe boredom. Maybe wanting him to at least have some opinion of him that wasn't _crazy fucking cowboy_. "Kinda took me under her wing, too... wouldn't be where I am today without her."

Yeah, sure, Reyes had practically dragged him out of Deadlock, but Ana had helped more in the long run... _god_ , he missed her. Probably that Reinhardt guy did more, though, if he felt anywhere close to the way Ana probably had about him.

"Hey, uh, I hate to interrupt," Lena said suddenly over comms, "but I might have a wee bit of a problem here."

McCree groaned, getting a curious glance from Hanzo. That settled it, he wasn't telling the bastard anything else. Not unless he had no other choice.

"The last time you said that, you blinked into a wall two seconds later," Angela said tiredly. There was maybe a millisecond of silence, and then Genji burst out laughing. "Genji, it's not funny. Tracer, what is it this time?"

Lena laughed nervously. "Well, ah... you remember the two junkers that were on the news the other day?"

 _Well, shit_.

McCree groaned.

"You're kiddin'," he muttered. "That's who I spotted? Didn't talk to them, glad I didn't, 'cause those guys are fuckin' insane."

"Nope! Not even sure why they're here, and why would I kid about something like that, anyway, but they're here, all right! And kinda attacking me, not that I blame 'em, but I think I've got this under control for now... _holy shit!"_

Silence.

"Tracer?" Dr. Z asked, still sticking to callsigns for some odd reason. It wasn't like the world _didn't_ know who that girl was. "Oh no no no-"

"I'm okay!" Lena drew in a sharp breath. "Well, actually, I'm not, my legs hurt like hell, but that tends to happen when I recall from them being blown off!"

_What._

Unsurprisingly, there was complete silence on the comms as what Lena had said sunk in.

"You're altogether too cheerful about this," McCree remarked dryly. "Anyways, if anyone cares, I got Genji's brother."

"Please tell me you didn't kill him," Genji said.

"Alright, I won't," McCree let that sink in for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Kiddin', kiddin', he's fine. I think. Ya fine?"

That last bit was directed at Hanzo, who nodded stiffly.

"Yeah, he's fine," McCree reported.

"Good."

And not a word of concern for McCree himself, or any of Genji's other actual friends that hadn't tried and nearly succeeded in murdering him. He was really going to talk to him about that. Not now, though. Later. Once all this was over. For now, the literal poster girl of Overwatch needed to be bailed out.

"Anyways, Lena," McCree asked, "where are you?"

~

"Near the gates," Tracer said after a quick glance around. Neither of the crazy blokes were anywhere in sight, probably because they thought she'd gotten blown in half and was bleeding out somewhere, hopefully because they thought she'd gotten blown in half and was bleeding out somewhere. "Don't see any guards, and actually I don't see the junkers either. Probably a good thing."

"What are they even doing here?" Genji muttered, half to himself, half to the group, and 100% a rhetorical question. "It just doesn't make sense."

"Life doesn't make sense, pardner," Jesse insisted, laying on the accent thick. Probably to annoy someone, but if that someone was Lena Oxton, then he wasn't doing too great a job of it. "Deal with it. And- oh shit Genji's brother disappeared. Fuckin' ninjas."

 _Fuckin' ninjas indeed_ , Tracer thought, remembering all the times she'd had to go up against Genji for training. That never had ended well for anyone involved, except for that one time Morrison interrupted.

"What," Genji said in a dangerous monotone. "McCree. You had one job. _One. Job_."

"I know! And I'm- wait nevermind he's back. Has some sorta weird bow. Not a hair bow. Guess sin' outdated shit kinda runs in your family, ey?"

Genji had no response to that, and Tracer couldn't hold back her giggle. She blinked over to some sort of giant bell-gong-thing, and studied it for a moment.

_Dragons. Wicked! Not really._

"Why the junkers are here does not matter," the doc said finally, ignoring the whole 'Genji-brother-disappearing' discourse. "They are here, and they clearly aren't going to be stopped anytime soon. It's entirely possible that they could destroy what's left of the Shimada clan on their own, which would mean we won't have to come back, and I am one hundred percent for that."

There were a few seconds of radio silence, and in that time, Tracer blinked up to a ledge and pulled herself up. No sign of Genji, or the doc, or the cowboy, or even this fabled brother of Genji's. _Huh._ _Weird_.

"Well, not to interrupt or anything, but you should probably get back over here," Brigitte cut in for the first time in over an hour... weren't they supposed to be on their way back in an hour exact? _Bollocks_. "Ground controllers are mostly wasted, probably high on something, but it's only a matter of time until one of them looks out the window and realizes that this isn't a cargo ship."

"Well then, that's settled!" Tracer said cheerfully, grinning despite herself. "We did what we needed to do, so let's go! I think Torby's getting to base tomorrow morning, maybe we'll be there to meet him!"

"Only if you're flying, sister," Brigitte said flatly. "I'm no speed demon, and I really don't want to tempt fate any more tonight than I already have."

 _Oh yes,_ Tracer thought happily, oh _HELL YES!_

"You got it! I'll fly!" Tracer's grin only grew bigger as she slipped the ugly grey hoodie back on over her harness, then pulled out the rest of McCree's inconspicuous probably-Blackwatch clothes from where she'd stashed them: behind a trash can. Maybe that was a mistake, because they stunk.

_Well, if anyone asks, the cowboy farted._

"I'm just going to ignore the fact that Lena here is still not cleared for flying," Angela muttered dryly. "Not since before the Slipstream, and that was years ago."

_Bitch._

Tracer nearly blinked into another wall, but stopped herself at the last second. Fortunately, the streets of Hanamura were more or less deserted, otherwise she definitely would've gotten more than a few funny looks.

"Oh, shove off," she said indignantly. "We're illegal anyway!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I know I've got some explaining to do. This story went through like four different iterations before I finally realized that the first one was actually what I'd been going for the whole time... lil bit embarrassing for me haha. Fourth iteration was a completely different story, second and third were further down the timeline in the first and fourth respectively.
> 
> Anyway that's enough rambling from me. I've actually had this chapter sitting around in my Google Drive for like a month but anyway well it's here now and I'm sorry for the wait!
> 
> I promise the wait won't get that long again... probably. Hopefully. Fingers crossed.
> 
> Feel free to comment with ideas for what should happen in a chapter down the road, though, because I just might use those ideas!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Winston is very stressed out, among other things. Speaking of which, things sure seem to be heating up in Brazil, don't they? Hmm... I wonder what that's all about?

"Torby!" Tracer cheered, blinking over to him and hugging him surprisingly tightly considering she wasn't anywhere near being the strongest around. "It's been too long, love!"

 

"Haha, yeah," Torbjörn chuckled, "now get off me. Can't breathe."

 

Tracer blinked backwards and grinned. "It's good to see ya!"

 

"Mhm," Torbjörn muttered. "Anyone else comin' out, or is it just you helping me get this stuff out?"

 

Tracer shrugged. "Dunno, but we might as well get started!" She blinked over to the tarp, and began to lift it up.

 

"Maybe you shouldn't-" Torbjörn sighed. "Skit."

 

Tracer simply stared for a moment. The Bastion stared back. Neither of them moved, until the Bastion beeped, booped, and waved. _What-_

 

"-the bloody hell-?" Tracer managed, glancing back over at Torbjörn. "Oi, Torby, why do ya have a Bastion in the back of your truck?"

 

"It's Torbjörn," Torby muttered, "an' it's a really long story. Just don't shoot him unless he shoots you.”

 

~

 

"So we have a Bastion now," Winston muttered.

 

"Yep!" Tracer cheered. "He has a bird. It's name's Ganymede."

 

"And," Winston managed, "who told you this?"

 

"Bastion did!"

 

Winston sighed, and, taking his glasses off, he began cleaning them in a futile attempt to take his mind off the situation. "Uh... how, exactly?"

 

"I asked what the bird's name was, and then tried a few, and Bastion nodded when I said Ganymede!" Tracer frowned slightly. "Well, it was either Ganymede or Ringo..."

 

Winston put his glasses back on, and leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

 

"I need more peanut butter for this."

 

"Yeah," Tracer agreed, "I can't believe anyone would name a bird Ringo!"

 

Winston groaned aloud, cluing Tracer in to the fact that _he really didn't care about the bird's name._ He was slightly more concerned with the _Bastion that was very capable of murdering them all._

 

"Well, love," Tracer said, "if it makes you feel any better, I haven't blinked into any walls today!"

 

"Alright," Winston mumbled, reaching down for another jar of the sweet, sweet goodness called peanut butter as he did so. "Thanks, Lena."

 

She nodded, saluted, and grinned. "No problem, big guy!" With that, she blinked out the door, or she would have if it had been open. Winston winced as she recalled back.

 

"Hey," she said cheerfully as she turned the doorknob, "at least it wasn't a wall!" With that, she blinked out the door for real this time, and straight into a wall.

 

Winston sighed. "Lena-"

 

"I'm okay! Really! I swear!"

 

Winston listened carefully, and once he was sure she was gone, he let himself relax. With his hands, he began typing, checking the security feeds, while working on the jar with his feet. Wasn't exactly hygienic, but eh. The floor wasn't that dirty.

 

He started at Camera 001, better known as his office. There, Winston saw a rather large gorilla with a crippling addiction to peanut butter, sighed, and moved on to 002. Nothing too eventful was going on in any of the cameras, at least not yet, although who knew how quickly that would change?

 

Torbjörn was getting himself settled in his workshop (069) and Winston could barely make out the Bastion beeping, booping, and playing with the bird in the corner. Every so often, Torbjörn would yell something in Bastion's direction, and the Bastion would beep happily back. Maybe the Bastion would be good for him. Maybe the Bastion would be good for everyone. It seemed nicer than a lot of people, to be honest.

 

Tracer, meanwhile, was excitedly spreading the news of Torbjörn bringing a Bastion with him to anyone who would listen. Winston followed her process through cameras 070, 071, and 072 until she blinked off in a whole different direction and Winston continued to 073.

 

Camera 073 had a pretty good view of the main entrance to the Watchpoint, or what had once been the main entrance. After the incident that resulted in the recall, he'd doubled Athena's surveillance on the exterior of the base, which meant he had to check the other ones manually. That was fine, though. As long as they weren't caught off-guard like he'd been.

 

He cycled through cameras 074-103 quickly, since those were the ones Athena was keeping a close eye on. 104 on was slower, and Winston was so lost in his work that he didn't hear the ninja creeping up behind him until a light, fast tap on the shoulder came.

 

"Yo," Genji said cheekily, jumping back out of range of any retaliation from Winston. "I win."

 

"You- what?" Winston stammered. "Alright. Fine." He went back to his admittedly-boring work, and this time Genji made no attempt to be stealthy.

 

"What're you doing?" Genji asked, peering over his shoulder. "Surveillance? You have to do that manually? That's boring."

 

Winston sighed, and turned to face Genji with a rather exasperated expression. "Do you have a reason for being here, or-?"

 

"Yeah, actually," Genji said. "I know someone who might join us. He's... interesting."

 

Winston frowned. "What's the problem?"

 

"I might have to go find him first."

 

_Seriously?_

 

Winston was beginning to understand why Morrison had blown himself up. Being Overwatch's illustrious leader, even only technically, was physically and mentally exhausting.

 

"Do you have any idea where this guy is? Why wasn't he with you to begin with?"

 

Genji sighed. "To answer your second question, he suspected he would not be welcome."

 

"What?" Winston managed after a moment. "Why wouldn't he be? We could really use all the help we can get."

 

"He is an omnic. I thought, maybe, since we have a Bastion now..."

 

"Good idea," Winston agreed. "Torbjörn can't really argue with that anymore."

 

"And as for your first question," Genji continued, "I have a pretty good idea where he'd be." 

 

"Then... what are you asking? Permission?"

 

Genji shrugged. "Nah, just letting you know that I'm going. Bye."

 

He dashed out, and Winston realized that maybe, just maybe, Morrison had been onto something.   


~ 

 

“There’s really something to be said for being a vigilante,” Jack said with a chuckle. Ana nodded in agreement, back turned, still brewing her tea. “Don't have to clear missions with the UN anymore, anyway.”

 

“That was a pain,” Ana agreed, pouring some of it into a cup and taking a cautious sip. _Perfect_. “Makes you wonder, doesn't it?”

 

“Makes you wonder… what?”

 

Ana froze, and mentally began cursing herself. “Uh… well. Maybe… nevermind. Tea?”

 

“Thanks, but I'll pass,” Jack said. For a second, Ana thought she’d actually gotten him to let it go, and then he cleared his throat. “Anyway. What were you going to say?”

 

Ana sighed softly, and, tea in hand, she curled up on the opposite end of the couch. “Maybe... Gabriel was onto something.”

 

She knew this was a rough topic, and Jack’s carefully neutral response only confirmed it.

 

“What do you mean?” Jack asked quietly.

 

“He was convinced we couldn't trust the UN,” Ana replied, taking a sip of tea. “That the reason all of our missions were going badly near the end was because we had to clear them first.”

 

Jack frowned. “He never told me that.”

 

“Really? I thought-” Ana sighed. “Nevermind.”

 

“Maybe he was onto something,” Jack said after a moment.

 

“Maybe he was,” Ana agreed. “Doubt we'll ever find out, assuming he's even still in there.”

 

Jack was silent as Ana took one last sip of her tea, then put it in the sink. They were in a rather cheap motel room, but hey, they had a sink. It was surprisingly easy to go undercover when everyone thought you were dead, too.

 

“Anyway, we should get going,” Ana said with a smile. “Pretty sure we didn't come to Brazil to sightsee.”

 

~

  
"Think we're almost there, Snowball!" Mei said cheerfully, giving the drone a grin. "Gibraltar's a bit of a far cry from Antarctica, though, isn't it?" Snowball beeped in agreement, displaying a shrug emote on its screen.

 

Getting here had not been easy in the slightest. After hiking across the continent to a port, she managed to stow away in the hold of a cargo ship to the Falklands, and from there to Argentina. She'd changed into some less conspicuous clothes (namely, her Summer Games sweater and sweatpants) and, after being pleasantly surprised to find she still had credits to her name, she spent a good chunk of them for a flight to Gibraltar.

 

The world wasn't all that different without Overwatch, at least on the surface, but Mei wasn't a scientist for nothing. The flight had stopped over in Brazil for a few hours, and a few hours was all Mei needed to see the tension in the city. She saw a few posters for a DJ, too, posters that were actively being taken down by the police just as more were being put up by the people of the city. She looked up the DJ on the biggest leg of the journey, and spent half the time listening to his music - which was actually pretty dang good - and the other half sleeping.

 

She'd landed in Gibraltar a couple hours back, and was just now coming up on the supposedly-deserted Watchpoint. The signal had come out of here, though, so... maybe looks could be deceiving.

 

"I really didn't think this part through," Mei admitted as she and Snowball came up on the fence. "Do we just... walk in?"

 

Snowball displayed the shrug emote again, then a happy one. It flew up to the fence, and then through it, through a now-obvious break in it. Someone had definitely tried to hide it, though, which meant... someone was here? Maybe.

 

"Guess so," Mei said mostly to herself. "That's gonna be a tight squeeze..."

 

Snowball pushed open the break, making it at least a little wider, and Mei shoved her duffel in. Now came the hard part.

 

"Little help, buddy?" Mei asked. Snowball pushed the break open wider, and she took a deep breath, then began to push herself through, hoping and praying that she wouldn't get stuck halfway.

 

Good news: she didn't get stuck halfway.

 

Bad news: she got most of the way through and then her sweatpants caught.

 

"Come on, come on, come on!" Mei stammered, tugging carefully. It didn't budge, and she thought she could almost hear the fabric ripping. With a sigh, she knelt down and tugged in a different direction, freeing herself, then examined the damage. There wasn't much, although she definitely hadn't imagined the ripping. There was a hole, and it was very visible.

 

"Are you kidding me?" Mei muttered as she examined them as best she could while still wearing them. "I liked those... guess I'll have to fix 'em up at some point. There's gotta be a sewing kit somewhere here."

  
Mei shrugged, yawned, and kept walking. Sure, the exterior of the place was all worn down, but the further in she got, the more evident it became that someone was still here, perhaps several someones.

 

"Please identify yourself," someone said in an electronic sort of voice as Mei found herself standing in front of the main entrance, making her glance up and grin. "Immediately."

 

"Athena?" Mei asked. "You know me! Or you did, anyway... is Winston here?"

 

The main entrance began to open, and Mei nearly jumped in surprise. (And by that she meant of course she didn't even come close to jumping in surprise, why would she do that, after all?)

 

"Welcome back, Agent Zhou. Do you recall where the main office is?"

 

"Uh... Morrison's office?" Mei frowned. "I think so?"

 

"You will find Winston there. I believe you both have some catching up to do."

 

~

 

Brigitte yawned as she walked into what used to be her father’s workshop, only to stop in her tracks as she realized that it might have become operational. That was news to her, and so was the Bastion in the corner… well, one thing at a time.

 

“Hey,” she said with a grin. “Long time no see, Papa.”

 

Her father dropped her hammer, and turned around. “Brigitte? I thought you were-”

 

“Hanging out with Reinhardt? Yeah, he's here. I couldn't have stopped him if I'd tried.” She grinned, and the two hugged.

 

“It's good to see you,” her father said, “even if I'd hoped you wouldn't get involved with this. It's likely a suicide mission.”

 

“You said that about the Crisis, too!” Brigitte insisted, still grinning.

 

“Now that was a suicide mission if I ever saw one.”

 

Brigitte burst out laughing. “Guess you defy the odds, then! Anyway, Papa, you should have known Reinhardt would come, and,” her grin faded slightly, “that I'd be sticking with him.”

 

Torbjörn nodded solemnly. “How is he doing?”

 

“Decent,” Brigitte said. “So, what's up with the Bastion?”

 

Her father sighed. “It's a long story.”

 

“Well,” Brigitte said, taking a seat on a semi-stable pile of scrap, “I got time. The Bastion can't possibly be as much of an idiot as Reinhardt sometimes, and by that I mean Reinhardt most of the time.”

 

Torbjörn chuckled. “You'd be surprised. The Bastion would probably join PETA if it could.”

 

The Bastion beeped in agreement, despite having literally no idea what PETA was.

 

~

 

"Order be with you," Satya Vaswani greeted. Customarily, the employee of lower rank would always give the greeting first, and the employee of higher rank would respond with 'and with you as well.' Customs, procedures, plans, these gave Satya's life structure.

 

"Yes," Sanjay agreed, likely unaware of the distress he was causing Satya by deviating from the customary Vishkar greeting. _Sanjay, why._ "Unfortunately, we do not have time for formality right now. Satya, do you know who this is?"

 

He displayed a hologram of a man, and Satya took a good long look. The man was average in most respects, but - ugh - practically radiated chaos and disorder. Satya nearly winced aloud, but caught herself in time. Sanjay would not like that.

 

"Yes," Satya lied.

 

"This is Lúcio Correia dos Santos," Sanjay said, much to Satya's relief. "He has been sabotaging our efforts to improve the slums of Rio de Janeiro for months now."

 

Satya nodded, now knowing exactly who this was. Sanjay didn't need to know that she hadn't known to begin with.

 

"We have been treating this... Lúcio like nothing more than a nuisance, but as the project nears completion, he and the ruffians that follow him have been getting far more aggressive."

 

"What do you wish me to do?" Satya asked, despite already having a basic idea of the matter. Sanjay didn't need to know she knew.

 

"Find his weaknesses, and report them back to me," Sanjay said flatly. "If an opportunity to deal with him permanently arises, take advantage of it. Use your judgement, Satya. You may not act like it, but I know you are smart. Here is your chance to prove it to the rest of Vishkar."

 

Determined, Satya nodded her assent. "I will not fail."

 

"Good," Sanjay said with an enigmatic smile. "I knew I could count on you, Satya."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I actually did this semi-quickly I'm proud of myself! Maybe there's hope for me yet! Anyway, I was gonna do NaNoWriMo but then was like "you know what, I'm gonna do that when I don't have a billion other things to do." So this happened instead. Y'all are welcome.  
> In other news, this is turning into more than just Anahardt, and you know what? I'm okay with that. I love all the characters. (Well, except for Moira, she's creepy, but I love her design! Same thing with Toblerone, except he's just... himself. And- okay let's stop.) Anahardt is definitely the number one ship here, though. It's what I ship above all else, after all~!

**Author's Note:**

> I do have a Tumblr! It's [Crazy Fic Lady](http://soulstealer1987.tumblr.com/), so hit me up if you want. I might post extra stuff there.


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